Harry Potter - Carry On Wayward Son
by Sliksick
Summary: On the job one night, Crowley discovers a house with a child being abused by a family. He takes the kid in and adopts him as his son. The child is Harry Potter before he ever got his letter to Hogwarts. This is a story of him growing up with Crowley and Gabriel as parental figures with all the obstacles that come with becoming part demon, part wizard, and all kinds of crazy.
1. What A Difference A Few Years Make

**Chapter 1: What A Difference A Few Years Make**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

For those who have followed my previous work - **Blood Doesn't Make Family (Continuation)** \- thank you for sticking with me.

For the new readers - my initial work was written as a continuation to the work of MusicDefinesUsAll. Unfortunately, as a new writer at the time, I didn't ask for permission nor did I clarify enough that it was simply my interpreted continuation of the work, not plain 'highway robbery' as it was inferred by some.

Thankfully, me and MusicDefinesUsAll managed to resolve the issue and ended it on good terms.

After a few days of messaging and talks, I asked for permission to use CERTAIN elements used by MusicDefinesUsAll to write my own original story from scratch.

So while my work may have some similarities, I plan and I will make it my own. Any possible similarities to MusicDefinesUsAll will be unintentionall or used with consent.

Please enjoy this story.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE 2**

To the very astute of Harry Potter readers, you may notice some similarities of this work with the very first chapter published by JKR - this is intentional so as to make the differences more apparent

* * *

 **It was a happy day for the magical community of the world. After a decade of conflict and death, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Could-Not-Be-Named, the horrid Lord Voldemort, was slain. But at what a price it came – the Boy-Who-Lived, alone, without a family to call his own. The last of the Potters, with no other choice evident and in need of protection against the Death Eaters that remained, Albus Dumbledore made the weighty decision to leave behind the poor little Harry with the only family he had left. His mother Lily had a sister, who married a muggle named Vernon Dursley and had a child named Dudley. Albus didn't look too far into their being – Harry was no orphan if he had some family left in the world, even if they were Muggle. He had no choice but to deliver him to them. He was against it, but Lily somehow cast a Sacrificial Protection on the boy, which would only last through the Bond of Blood. The boy had to be taken willingly by the Dursley's, or he will never be safe. He expected that the Dursley's would care for the boy as they would their own.**

 **How very wrong he was.**

* * *

The Dursleys were drifting into an uneasy sleep on this restless day – with all the owls, strangely dressed people, and unusual weather in the world - but the cat on the wall outside their house was showing no sign of being tired. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

It was at midnight that a man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. He was tall, thin, and ancient, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This was Albus Dumbledore. A man who didn't realize that his very presence was unwelcome at Privet Drive.

But he did seem to realize he was being watched because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him.

He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He took out what seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter from one of his pockets and began to flick it open, hold it up in the air, and click it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. He clicked it until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. He looked down at the cat, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Minerva."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead, he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was dressed in a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Minerva.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, I've celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no —even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for a long time."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors. At this rate, we would be doing Carlotta Pinkstone's job in repealing the International Statute of Secrecy."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A beautiful thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared, at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really _has_ gone, Dumbledore? Nothing of him remains in the physical plane? No fragment left over? No offspring to call his own?"

"It certainly seems so, and we have checked. He may have some sort of magical contingency to advise his followers, but to return from death? Doubtful. If he does have a child, we will find him - or her - in one school or another soon enough," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has_ gone —"

"My dear Minerva, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort._ " Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name. Its is not as if his name is under the Ministry Taboo Watchlist."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort,_ was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have, nor dare to use."

"Only because you're too _noble_ to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him? About what happened in the Potter home."

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're _saying,_ " she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — _dead_."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know…I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone. His power…his being…it all just broke."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's — it's _true_?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done…all the people he's killed…he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very unique watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

Professor McGonagall was petrified at this statement.

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live _here_?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"Do you have other options available for the boy, Minerva?"

"We could have checked the will! He is a Potter – he is a legacy! His father must have written something down in such a circumstance."

Dumbledore could only sigh in resignation, "I am afraid that it is out of our hands. I have not been able to locate the Potter will even with all of my connections and the Ministry sharks are already searching for the boy to take him in as their own – I don't have to remind you were the Death Eaters are, do I Minerva? In any case, the magic has already laid its claim. The link of blood and soul will ensure that only he and he alone will get access to it and guarantee its continuation. If Harry ever dies, then the will and the last of Potter's dies as well. That, or will find another Potter that is somehow alive elsewhere in the world."

"But…that's ridiculous! There could be information in the will pertinent to what happened to his parents. There is also all the land that the family has – someone has to take care of them! Then there's all their financial holdings, books, artifacts, and everything else!"

Dumbledore quickly raised his hand to stop Professor McGonagall, "All their land is magically taken care of and hidden from the Muggles; the Potter elves will take care of the lands for now and feed off the magics of the land to sustain them. All the physical belongings are being registered, marked, listed, and stored by the goblins at a secure location associated with Gringotts or within its walls. All the financial holdings are stored securely in Gringotts itself, with a special dispensation account set up for Harry in the future when he starts Hogwarts – for his needs. It's is unfortunate that no one – except for possibly Harry himself – will get access to the will. Do not worry, though. I made sure Griphook personally delivered the Potter will to the Head Goblin of Gringotts."

Minerva was relieved, "Good, we can trust Griphook. So, Harry is truly safe here – away from the magical world?"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it? Plus, no pure-blood supporter will even consider searching for him in the Muggle world. To them, it would be the equivalent of searching through animal droppings and the like. "

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Albus?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it — _wise_ — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore with iron in his voice. "He may be a simple man, a bit… accepting… of others, but he has never failed me.".

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the bike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as an average man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so _wild_ — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

" **Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir** ," said the giant, climbing carefully off the bike as he spoke. " **Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir**."

"No problems, were there?"

" **No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarming around. He fell asleep as we were flying over Bristol.** "

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead, they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"I am afraid I can't – it was created as a result of Voldemort's magics. Knowing that Voldemort has magically altered himself over the years and with Harry's unknown immunity, I have no idea how the two have mixed. I also don't know what repercussion could arise if I do remove it. We will have to wait and see if anything comes of it in the future, but I do suspect that it may be some sort of remnant of the man himself."

"A remnant? What do you mean, Albus?"

"It is as you said Minerva – nothing of Voldemort is left on the physical plane but on the spiritual one… I am just not sure. The Dark Lord knew the foulest of magic and secrets. I find it hard to believe that he didn't have a plan of some sort of a spell already set up in such a situation."

Minerva and Hagrid both blanched at that notion.

"Even if I could remove it, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

" **Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?** " asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over

Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

" **S-s-sorry,** " sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. " **But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily and James dead — and poor little Harry off to live with Muggles —** "

"Yes, yes, it's all sorrowful, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor

McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

" **Yeah** ," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, " **I'll be taking Sirius his bike back. Goodnight, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir.** "

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street while professor McGonagall was comforting Hagrid as he was approaching the bike. On the corner, he stopped and took out the silver lighter. He clicked it once, and balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and was about to apparate away with a swish of his cloak, when he paused and turned back to two of his closest friends. As he slowly started to take out his oddly shaped wand of elder wood, he thought of the ramifications if his actions after today were ever discovered.

" _Minerva… Hagrid… Forgive me for this… but the less people that know about Harry's location, the safer he will be."_

"Albus," asked Minerva as she finally noted the Headmaster's wand, "What are you…"

" _Legilimency"_

" _Obliviate"_

" _False Memocreo"_

" _Ne Memoria"_

" _Enervate" (1)  
_

" **Yeah** ," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, " **I'll be taking Sirius his bike back. Goodnight, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir.** "

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar, it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Minerva," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply before apparating away. Dumbeldore followed soon after with a swish of his cloak.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"

* * *

 **If Dumbledore only knew how big of a mistake he made.**

 **He suspected that the mark was 'evil', but he had no idea how bad it truly was.**

 **He couldn't have known at the time that the mark was an accidental Horcrux created by Voldemort – he only stumbled upon such knowledge much later on. Even with his knowledge of the arcane, there were just some topics he never looked into during his studies of the darker aspects of magic.**

 **He couldn't have known that the mark created a disease, an infection that spread an 'evil' to others if they didn't protect themselves from its influence.**

 **He couldn't have known that the already Muggle-personified Dursley would be infected by the dark mark.**

 **He couldn't have known that their inhibitions would falter and their darkest instincts would rise to the surface.**

 **He couldn't have known that they would simply become vicious at the one thing that brought a significant change into their lives – Harry.**

 **He couldn't have know that the scar – without any other form of safeguards – would become a lightning rod for other types of darkness in the world.**

 **He couldn't have know that someone, somewhere, would have been strong enough to actually detect and find the source of such pure evil.**

 **He couldn't have known that someone would actually be strong enough to get past the barrier surround the Dursley's home.**

 **He couldn't have known… of what would happen.**

* * *

 **(1) Lelimency, Obliviate, and Enervate are already known spells in the Potterverse. 'False Memocreo' and 'Ne Memoria' are simply Latin translations of 'false memories' and 'new memories.'**


	2. There Is A House on Privet Drive

**Chapter 2: There Is A House on Privet Drive**

* * *

 _Seven Years Later…_

It was a cold July in Surrey, England.

On this dark night under the waxing moon, on Privet Drive in Little Whinging, walked a diminutive man in a very dark, very expensive ensemble. He was clean-shaven, bushy eyebrows, brown eyed, and with an overly exposed forehead not caused by a receding hairline.

He was also currently very, very angry at whoever was on the other end of the line on his black iPhone.

"I really don't bloody care what the King of Hell wants me to do! Next time he wants to check a dark magic signature across the pond, he gets someone lower on the totem pole then the freaking King of the Crossroads! Just because I had business at this end of the world doesn't mean he can just dial me up through you! Now, you better start the paperwork needed for this mess, or I swear, when I get back, I will show you the real meaning of torture!"

He hung up on the poor sod on the other end of the line. Crowley missed the feeling of slapping a flip-phone closed for emphasis, but the iPhone had its benefit. He really couldn't blame the guy who called him up; he was a weak demon who just started out as his secretary – now he has to make an example out of him just to maintain his image.

"That deal with that skanky Marchioness was not worth coming out here for. Sure, I get her new Duchess soul in ten years but come on mate, I was expecting a shag or something from her royal britches. Instead, I get a quick kiss with no heat and a bloody dismissive wench! Oh, I will definitely abuse that loophole to take her down a few levels. I will make her the new Princess Diana by the time I am done with her." (1)

Crowley was getting annoyed at the worst possible time, but what was he to do – he was Scottish and way too high in rank to do something this menial. A job from Azazel – the current King of Hell - needed to be taken care of unless one wants to deal with the consequences of disobeying him.

From what he could gather, some idiot Hunters by the names of Dean and Sam Winchester opened a particularly nasty Devil's Trap back in the States. Normally, this would have been beneath him, but this trap was created by THE Samuel Colt. That damn cowboy built the thing in 1861 with five churches and whole-lot-a-railroad tracks to block a Devil's Gate in Calvary Cemetery of southern Wyoming. People always said that the United States was a cesspool of evil, but wouldn't it be if half a dozen gates straight to Hell were scattered through its land?

In any case, the opening of the gate allowed the release of a lot of demons straight from the lowest levels of the pits. Now, some of the spirits were on the waiting list for the boss, with their own specific tasks and agendas to be carried out.

Some spirits, however, jumped the line.

"Scavenging little wankers, couldn't wait for an opening in the job market like everybody else. No, couldn't work your way up like normal demons. Took me nearly two hundred years to become 'King of the Crossroads' but this new generation thinks they can just break out of Hell to prove themselves."

From the texts he got, the techies were picking up some kind of residual dark signs of magic from somewhere around the area. Why a demon would come out so far was beyond Crowley, particularly since it would have involved crossing a large body of freaking salt water to do so. In any case, whatever he was currently tracking was definitely not garden variety hoodoo.

Crowley kept waving around his phone trying to detect some trace of what he was looking for.

"Damn techies. They can make a phone that never loses reception or signal, but they can't make a gizmo that traces what I am looking for. I swear, where is this place…"

That's when he heard the yelling. Hard not to – the noise practically reverberated in the air.

"You piece of trash! I told you to go get the food from the kitchen, and yet you manage to mess that up as well! You ungrateful sod, all we had to do to keep you in this house! Why the heck did your useless parents have to go and die and leave a freak like you here with us..."

There were other voices as well, one in particular that seemed to be apologizing in a monotone voice, yet still laced in fear. Normal humans wouldn't have heard the pleas of the child over the screaming of the male and the shrill female – and another little kid – as well as the sound of plates breaking and furniture moving. Crowley was a demon, though, so he heard everything.

"Well, looky what we have here," as he approached 4 Privet Drive. The neighborhood consisted of the exact same houses over and over again, rows upon rows. But this house was different.

Crowley did a quick look over in the mystical spectrum, and he was stunned.

"What in bloody hell?"

He was looking at a thin, bubble-like barrier protecting the house. Like a membrane, it seemed to filter things entering and leaving the perimeter of the house. It also looked like to be the reason why the neighbors were not reacting to all the noises from the house – it was magically blocked out. The membrane also didn't look…normal, if the phrase could be applied.

"Hang on…a magic filter ward around a house…that's 'The Bond of Blood'! But that means someone in that home is under the 'Sacrificial Protection' – who even knows such Old World magic in this age?"

Old didn't do it – ancient was more appropriate. The Sacrificial Protection is a spell older than writing and required no incantation or materials. It did, however, require an ultimate sacrifice of the user's soul as a price at the peak of emotions to protect another. The energy provided from the sacrifice lasts forever and basically prevents anyone from harm by the darkest of magics and creatures for a long time – not even demon spells would affect the marked individuals. The Bond of Blood was an extension that was received when the protected is taken under the roof of a family member to be raised. The beneficiary is then protected from harm as long as the child is welcomed at home or becomes old enough to defend him or herself. But this…

"How in the bloody hell is such a spell so twisted and corrupted?"

Typically, the warding would ensure the safety of the protected but something…infected it. Usually, the barrier would filter out any malicious energies to protect the benefactors but something – or someone – has manipulated to keep all the evil instead.

"If the child in there is the one under protection, then that is some perverse understanding of security. Only an inexperienced practitioner would consider keeping everyone ignorant of what's happening to him in there as 'keeping the benefactor protected.' Such concentrated malicious miasma…no wonder the techies picked up a signal so far out."

Crowley now had two choices before him. He could either report that there was no evidence of a demon out here and rather an abuse of magic. That, or go inside the barrier and see if it was actually a demon's handy work in the child's suffering. The problem was, once he enters the bubble, he wasn't getting out until he got rid of the protection, which could be difficult unless he knew the parameters of the protection.

Crowley started to think, "This could be a set-up. Someone's plan to cut my head off and quickly catch the reins as they fall. Could be that red head…Nah, there's no poetry in this for the clever ones, and the savage ones would have made the quick kill when I was kissing that Marchioness."

Crowley kept twisting the phone in his hands considering his choices. Most magical beings would be too weak to penetrate the bubble, but Crowley was not one of those creatures – especially since demons were so far outside the magical hierarchy, they weren't even considered magical creatures for the spell to block against.

Crowley just smiled and shrugged, "Well then, bottoms up."

* * *

Bland.

That's the first word that comes to mind that one gets upon seeing the house. It was two floors, that if anything, were even neater than the perfectly presented garden outside. Downstairs was the living room, dining room, kitchen and a barren hall. Upstairs seemed to have all the bedrooms and the bathroom. The only redeemable feature of the house was the fireplace – which was boarded up.

"What is this, a catalog from the 60's? Pink kitchen with white cabinets, wallpaper living room with wooden everything? I've used torture rooms with more décor."

While Crowley did say this out loud, he was currently incorporeal and inaudible – one of the benefits of being a demon.

He approached the living room when he saw the scene which he heard outside. There were four people in the room: one adult male, one adult female, and two children with one currently on the floor bruised, surrounded by broken plates, food and thrown items.

The male – screaming at the child holding up his hands in defense on the floor - was a big, beefy man, with a large purple face due to his current rage. He had thick, dark hair, a bushy black mustache, with hardly any neck and small, blue, mean eyes.

The female – crossing her hands, standing in front of the standing child - was a thin, blonde-haired woman with pale eyes and nearly twice the usual amount of neck. She had bright green eyes which didn't fit her horse-like face and large front teeth.

One of the children – laughing at the one on the floor – had thick blond hair and watery blue eyes. He was large – not big, but fat. He was like a shrunken version of the screaming man, probably his father.

The other child – laying on the floor – had untidy jet-black hair and startling green eyes. He was small and skinny, with a thin face and knobbly knees, most likely due to neglect and malnutrition.

Crowley then caught a glimpse of his forehead…

"Woah," he said in surprise, "that is some curse."

On the physical plane, the child had a lightning shaped scar on the right side of his forehead. The magical spectrum, however, was a different story. Dark miasma was bleeding off the boy, affecting the three people around him, contaminating the house. If it wasn't for the warding outside, it would have dispersed and might have only slightly affected the people, but not to this extent.

"Hold up a sec, I've seen this before. Yeah, yeah…cursed objects. But how is the child one? And just what is he cursed with to have such a miasma?" Cursed objects are imbued with dark magic that can have a variety of effects and uses but with a price. But the point is that they are just that – objects. Creating a living cursed object was possible but short-sighted, as well as detrimental to the maker and the subject.

Crowley was zoning out the family while he was examining the home and family, so he tuned back in.

"…you had to use your freaky powers to levitate the plate to my son Dudley? Do you want my son to catch your disease?"

The wife now jumped in saying, "Put him back in the cupboard where he belongs. He is a 'thing' just like my sister. Why, why did we take him in when they died?"

The child – now confirmed to be the son of the two adults – just laughed at that, and while jumping cackled, "Yeah, put him in the closet! He made a mess of my cake."

The wife kneeled to her boy, "Of course, Dudley sweety. Here, let's go to the kitchen and get you another piece."

While the mother took the walking whale-child away to the kitchen, the father grabbed the smaller one – now understood by Crowley as the nephew of the mother – by the cuff of the neck and dragged him to the stairs.

"Now what are you planning to do with…"

Crowley never finished the sentence because he glimpsed where the child was being taken to. You wouldn't notice it on the first pass, but it was there – a cupboard under the stairs. As the father fully opened the door and was about to toss the boy in, Crowley was paralyzed but what he saw on the inside of the door – nails.

From the outside, the nails were painted to match the door color. On the inside, they were beaten in at various angles, too many to count. There was also padding on the corners and edges of the door to prevent damage and sound leakage.

All to make sure that the boy couldn't push on the door or scream for help.

The room had barely enough space to fit a bed, let alone move around or stand.

"They actually put a child into a makeshift Iron Maiden?" growled Crowley.

Now, every demon was tortured as a human soul to become what they are. However, the souls understood why they were tortured – they were in Hell, so they screwed up majorly. If they survived and became demons, they would only go on to continue the cycle.

A child is not made to be tortured. Even the infinitesimally few that did make it to Hell were born evil, not made. It takes time for true evil to form in a person. It's why the cultures of the world are so superstitious of the number thirteen. It's not that it's unlucky, but rather that it was the cut-off age for the distinction of whether or not a person could be judged in death accurately. If however the child was particularly bad and still managed to die before thirteen… Well, from what Crowley heard, the kid torturers has special contracts to work on them to avoid persecution from their coworkers and for benefits. Demons understood that it was 'just business', but it was still a taboo topic.

Crowley has never taken time on the other side off the slab, but he understood why it needed to be done – and that it needed to be done right.

Crowley was losing his temper, but he had to make sure. He walked through the cupboard door, to see what was the child currently doing.

The black haired child was on the bed, unmoving. He didn't sob, he didn't twitch – he was just resigned to what had happened.

He got up onto his knees and started to take off his clothes – carefully, to avoid the nails – which were clearly too large for his frame.

Crowley saw the scars and studied them. Some were fresh. Others were significantly older. Some were covering clear lines of breakages, burns, and everything else possible to give a child with the utensils found in a typical household. Some, however, Crowley couldn't explain right off the bat.

The child did a quick assessment of the damage, determine which were worse and which needed to be dealt with first. He took out what looked like a makeshift first-aid box from underneath the bed. He opened it up to take out the medical cloth, band-aids, and some other medical supplies.

Crowley watched as the child began to bandage, tie up, and sanitize the wounds he could get to. During the entire ordeal, the demons nails kept digging into his hands. If it weren't for his healing, he would have been bleeding at this point.

When he was done with the easy stuff, the child noted the deep cut on the right side of his abdomen. He pressed, checking for depth and sensitivity – didn't even wince, didn't even sigh. He started to take out a needle, string, and a lighter.

"No. He wouldn't…"

He started to heat the needle with a practiced hand, checking the cuts on his sides before starting.

"Oh, come now, don't tell me…"

The boy was clearly wincing in pain, but his eyes were dead – he was used to this, used to the pain.

"At least give him something to dull the pain. There has to be some booze in the place…"

He pushed the searing needle through the skin. He cried but made no sound. Crowley started to watch as the broken boy began to literally stitch himself back up.

That was the final straw for Crowley.

As Fergus Roderick MacLeod, Crowley lived a crappy life. No father, a mother who tried to sell him for three pigs, and orphaned at eight did some real damage. His crappy life made the life of his only son equally bad with his 'tough love'. Heck, he sold his soul for three extra inches below the belt.

But he never, ever left his son like this. At worst, he may have left him bruised and broken, but he took the effort to get him back in shape to beat him again in the future.

Crowley made his choice. A decision that would affect his life – and the child's life – forever.

Tonight, there would be three new souls in hell.

People always say that there is a calm before the storm. But most people can still sense it – a disturbance in the air. It varies person to person, but the most sensitive can feel the change in pressure preceding the storm.

The same can be said when a killer chooses a target.

The killer can be in hiding, but the target will sense something wrong. A chill in the air, a sound just loud enough to hear – those are just excuses. People have a sixth sense that seems to turn on when their life is in grave danger outside their own volition. Crazy stunts, driving drunk, skydiving - that's free will for you. But when someone decides to end your life without your consent – God gives you a warning. It's your decision to hear it and react.

The Dursley's chose not to listen to the bells that kept going off in their heads.

The father chose to attack the man who suddenly appeared in the middle of their kitchen during dinner instead of wondering how he got there.

The mother chose to scream at the person to get out rather than beg him to let go of her husband.

The child chose to shout at the man who interrupted his dinner rather than go hiding in the closet when the man easily snapped his father's arm.

The father chose to punch the man who broke his arm rather than beg for forgiveness.

The mother chose to scream in horror rather than take her son and run away.

The child chose to throw a cake at the short man rather than actually help his father up.

They made so many wrong decisions made at that moment.

Crowley made the better choices.

He made the right choice to pin the people to push the 'family' into the living room wall.

He made the right choice to push everything out of the way to get to the 'people' crying in fear.

He made the right choice to prep the 'animals' that would soon enter the furnace.

* * *

The warding around the house worked in Crowley's favor.

The smell of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming, the sight of the family pinned to the wall through the barely covered windows – nobody from the outside noticed a thing.

He sincerely lost track of time in his work – the sign that he loved his job.

He took the BlackBerry out of the suit with his bloody hands – 1:36 AM.

"My, look at how time flies. Spend a little over six hours cutting you friendly folks up."

Crowley took a passing glance at his work while he started to undo his rolled up sleeves.

All that could be said was that all three were still alive – the less said, the better.

Crowley began to take his favorite dagger out of the coat, "Well, guess I should finish up. I've already set up the address and postage on you lot. It's express shipping straight to Hell for you all."

The Dursley's were too weak to respond – all life was gone from their eyes. The mother was still crying now, pleading, "Please…help us."

"Oh, sweety…there's no mercy here."

"She was asking me."

Crowley twisted his head in the direction of the sound.

The dark haired boy stood in the corridor. No shirt, pants on, and a bloody hand with a dry spot of blood next to him.

Crowly made a guess based on what he saw, "You pushed through the door when you heard them screaming, huh?"

The child only nodded, unblinking, eyes still on the family that tortured him for years.

"Why did you injure yourself?"

The child answered, deadpan, unemotional, "I heard them screaming."

Crowley presented his hand and waved it in a circle, like a father asking for his son to continue, "And?"

"I wanted to see them."

The demon wasn't confused by the child's intentions. He just needed to hear the boy said it.

"And?"

The child's next three words sealed their fate.

"They deserve more."

Crowley accepted his answer. "You watched the whole time didn't you?"

The boy nodded.

"They saw you from their positions the whole time, and you did nothing?"

The boy nodded.

Crowley played with the bloody knife in his hand. He turned the knife around – handle out – and presented it to the boy.

Crowley decided to let him place the final nail in the coffin.

"Would you like to finish them?"

The Dursley's regained what life they had left and panic re-appeared in their eyes. They started to struggle, old wounds reopening, new blood spilling.

The boy went up to Crowley, slowly. He carefully grasped the knife, almost dropping it due to its weight and the child's weakness.

"Before you start," Crowley interjected to the child, "just be aware that it's your connection to the aunt that's keeping you here."

The child only tilted his head in confusion.

"Just saying, leave her for the end. When we are done here, there will be no house left."

And Crowley saw it – a smile appear on the boy's face, something completely foreign to the child.

"Will they burn?"

At that, Crowley chuckled. "Yes, they will burn."

The boy started to walk toward the family that tortured him, twisting the knife in his hands.

"Dudley goes first."

Crowley just stood in the back, watching, wiping off his hands, as the child on the wall began to scream in pain.

* * *

Crowley and the boy were standing on the cliff outside the community, watching a lone house burn in the night.

The firefighters would put out the home eventually, but there will be bodies left in the house to identify. Officials will say they burned away. In the end, all that the firefighters will have is a standing house with all the Dursley's belongings destroyed. They will also find the strangely undamaged cupboard, with evidence that someone actually lived in that horrid thing. Even in death, Crowley left one last thing to turn the Dursley's into pariahs.

The boy – now in a sweater and shoes – stood next to Crowley while he made a call.

"Yeah, sorry for my earlier outburst…Yes, there was no escaped demon out here. It was a cursed mirror that made a family go mad with the things it showed them…No, I destroyed it…It was a powerful cursed object but not useful enough to keep around… Too clunky and large for practical use… Did you finish the paperwork?... Good, add this new information on top and send it to the boss. If he asks, tell him I am on break and if he has a problem with it, tell him to shove it where light doesn't shine."

Crowley got off the cell and put it away. He glanced down at the boy on his side.

He was cleaned up now, but he still seemed to smell of blood.

"Are you like me?" asked the child.

"Like you how?" pondered Crowley.

"A freak."

Crowley chuckled, "Afraid not boy,"

Harry could only begin to hang his head when Crowley added, "I am a demon."

Harry's face got back up, but no emotion appeared, "Like the kind they talk about in church?"

"Yes, those sorts of demons."

Both stared back at the burning house in silence for a while.

"You are not freaked out?" asked Crowley in surprise.

"You a demon who responded to my prayers and I can levitate and burn things – you tell me."

Crowley actually got bugged eyed at this, "You begged for a demon?"

"I begged for someone to save me or kill them. You did both."

"Huh," shrugged Crowley.

The boy looked up at the man again, "Can I come with you?"

Crowley thought about it for a second, "Eh, why not. You have a name?"

"Only my first name – never heard my last name. My aunt never said it, and she took the husbands last name."

"Wow, seriously?"

He nodded.

"So what is your name?"

"It's Harry."

Crowley had to hold a laugh. "Huh. 'Ruler of the home' – how unfortunate."

Harry still looked at the man deadpanned.

"Alright then. The name is Crowley MacLeod. And since I am taking you with me, how about I give you my name?"

Harry thought about it.

"Harry MacLeod…Has a nice ring to it."

Crowley pondered it, "It really does. Just don't think too much regarding the meaning of MacLeod."

As Crowley put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "What does it mean, Crowley?"

Crowley laughed, "It means 'son of ugly.'"

Just before they teleported away, Harry chuckled, "So… you are saying your dad was ugly?"

The last words heard in the wind as it blew away traces of black smoke were Crowley saying, "You are gonna be a bucket full of fun, aren't you?"

* * *

 **(1) Yes, I gave Crowley credit for killing Princess Diana from the fatal car crash in the Pont de l'Alma tunnel in Paris. Take what you will from that.**


	3. You Want To Do WHAT?

**Chapter 3: You Want To Do WHAT?**

* * *

In a quiet little corner of Massachusetts - about a 50 miles outside of Boston - in a secluded part of the forest and mountains, camouflaged by the foliage and the snow, stood a hidden cottage.

From the outside, it looked like a simple log cabin, the kind Abraham Lincoln would live in if he had enough time to spruce it up.

On the inside, it was a well-fortified, bigger-on-the-inside-then-outside, three story house with all the necessities, including heating and electricity. It had three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a grand kitchen, a living room with a working fireplace, a dining room, and a whole floor dedicated as a library/study/workspace/torture room.

The great benefit of magic - reality is your bitch.

It was Crowley's secret home away from Hell, hidden from all demons, creatures, and angels with all the sigils and wards inscribed into its walls and its foundation. The only way to find it is to be invited or be told about it and given a key.

There was currently an Archangel enjoying a cup of hot chocolate while watching softcore porn on a laptop in front of the fireplace wearing a fluffy sweater.

Crowley did not know about this – the porn, not the Archangel.

So him teleporting in while the angel was enjoying the movie while his hands were warmed by the mug caught the demon off guard.

The angel quickly closing the laptop and burning himself with the spilled chocolate – that was just plain funny.

Harry quickly looked back and forth between the two, trying to judge the situation. "Crowley, is he a demon too?"

The Archangel responded in kind, "Crowley, why is there a child with you?"

Crowley could only rub the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I planned to introduce you two later but I guess now is better than ever. Harry, this is Gabriel, the Archangel. Gabriel, this is Harry, a boy I am taking in."

"I am in hiding Crowley – don't say my name so casually. Also, what do you mean "taking in'?"

Crowley annoyingly shook his head, "Clean up first. I need you to examine and heal the boy before we tell him everything. Meet you in the study."

* * *

"So, these are books." Harry was currently sitting on the couch without his shirt being examined by what he was told was an angel.

Gabriel could only be described as attractive. He had the sort of body that was an odd amalgamation of features that seemed to just work somehow. With a little effort, Gabriel could pass for a dashing privateer in a pirate costume or as a socialite in the right suit. Honestly, he could fit whatever role was needed in the right clothes – probably helped in his capacity as a Trickster.

All three of them were currently on the top floor of the house. It was a beautiful study: walls full and bulging with books and texts. One corner had a fireplace dedicated for reading, another corner ha a desk and an up-to-date computer system for work, and the last corner was for torture.

If Harry was more aware of the world, he would have questioned why one pair of handcuffs was pink and fluffy.

The less said about that corner, the better.

Gabriel was on his knees, eyes closed, arm over the center of Harry's chest, concentrating. Crowley stood behind him, leaning on the fireplace that extended from the first floor into the third-floor study. "What, you never saw one? You knew about demons."

Harry – still straight-faced despite everything that happened in the last few hours – calmly replied, "I heard about them from television sermons that Dursley's sometimes clicked through. Dudley was lazy, and his parents didn't read anything but the morning paper, so there was no need for them. Also, I never went to school so no, I have never seen a book."

Crowley only whistled in surprise, "Means you're illiterate as well. We will have to correct that afterward."

Gabriel just grumbled out of the corner of his mouth, "Could both of you be quiet? This is much harder than it looks."

Harry only looked back at the man in front of him, "So how exactly did an angel become friends with a demon?"

Gabriel – with his eyes still closed – chuckled, "First, please be careful with that information. I am currently in hiding as a 'Trickster'. Secondly, we ran into each other by accident in the early 18th century when Crowley was still a mere run-of-the-mill crossroads demon. I accidentally happened to kill an asshole in a befitting fashion right as his contract was ending. When Crowley's hellhounds came to get him, I was already in the middle of screwing with the poor sod. So long story short, he let me kill him, he collected the soul, we got to talking, yadda, yadda, yadda, we've been friends ever since."

Harry looked unemotionally at the angel, "You are leaving out a significant chunk of the story… Crowley tried to drag you to Hell for a promotion, didn't he?"

Gabriel took his hand off, opened his eyes, and looked back at Crowley, "What is he, psychic?"

Crowley shrugged, "Don't know, you tell me. He claims he has telekinesis and his adoptive family called him a freak."

Gabriel, stupefied, just said, "Oh."

One word responses at their best.

Crowley got the conversation back on track, "So what's the final diagnosis, doctor?"

Gabriel stood up, sighing in frustration."I did the best I could, but the injuries are simply too old. Internally, I fixed him up all neat and tidy. A constant diet of foods rich in essential vitamins and nutrients should take care of the malnutrition in a few weeks. Work and light exercise will fix up the weakness and fatigue he has as well distribute the new mass he will get. His skin is a different story – the scars and burns have to stay, and the emotional damage is done. I should warn you, x-rays will still show all your old injuries but healed up. Make sure you don't end up in a hospital, or there will be questions how you functioning at all."

Harry just nodded – no words were necessary.

Crowley nodded in kind. "Now we have three things to take care of."

Gabriel got confused at this, "Three? I thought it was just the one."

Crowley started to count off his fingers, "First, we figure out what he is; it's not vanilla flavored mortal, I can tell you that much. Secondly, we remove the curse on him; that thing is the reason he had a crappy,.." Crowley looked at Harry to confirm.

"I'll have my 7th birthday on July 31st."

"Right…crappy seven years. Third, you make him literate – that one should be easy enough for you."

Gabriel exasperated, "Indeed it should, it's an easy memory dump. Let's leave it for last. But what's this curse you keep talking about? Kids seems clean to me."

Crowley was the one confused now, "What are you, bloody daft? It's right there in the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead."

Gabriel squinted at the thing, leaning so close that it made Harry a bit uncomfortable. "Look, Crowley, I am in a way higher weight class than you, and I do not see anything."

"You didn't see the house. You didn't see where they kept him." Crowley was getting furious at this. The dark magic was clear as day, so the like of Gabriel…

The likes of angels…

Gabriel hands were up in surrender, "Look, it's not that I don't believe you, but…"

"No, no, it's not me, it's you," Crowley started to face in front of the fireplace. "The dark magic that made the curse can only be sensed by practitioners of dark magic. You may have done some dirty crap angel, but your choices and you are still inherently light. Me, I am a demon, through and through – that mark is like a freaking lighthouse to me."

Gabriel turned back to the boy and took two fingers to his forehead. A shock went through both of them instantly, causing both to fall back from each other.

"WOAH NELLY! Crowley, you bloodhound! You nabbed yourself a freaking wizard!"

"A wizard?" said Harry and Crowley at the same time.

"Don't you mean warlock?"

'No, Crowley, if I meant warlock, I would have said it. No, you found an honest to God wizard! Just think it, you are a wizard, Harry!"

Crowley just looked at the angel skeptically, "Whats's the big floppy difference? The letter 'z'?"

Gabriel just stood up and started doing a jig, "No, there is a fine line of distinction. Witches and warlocks can be broken down into three classes. The are the 'Borrowers' who make deals with demonic forces. There are the 'Naturals' who are born with it. Then there are the 'Students' who learn it through practice and training."

Crowley just chuckled, "So… Mama Crowley was a 'Natural' then?"

"Yep." Gabriel started to take a notepad from the desk to start drawing a Venn Diagram. "Now, people use spells and rituals on and off to take care of problems – like Hunters do – are none of the above since 'Students' take months or years of repeated magical exposure to become what they are. Although, a Hunter could become a 'Student' if they had the time or proclivity…"

Harry started to put back his shirt as he talked to Gabriel, "So…what are wizards?"

Gabriel got excited and pointed to his sketch, "Wizards are right here in the center of the three! They are born as 'Naturals,' they practice through life as 'Students,' and they 'Borrow' energy from the very air, earth and space around them. As a side benefit, their souls are uber-charge and fortified. If human souls are car brands from Acura to Volvo, then wizard souls are the freaking Transformers."

Harry raised his hand, "I don't get the reference."

Gabriel just put his hands on the boy's shoulders, "Harry, after we are finished here, we have a lot of catching up to do to make up for your childhood."

Crowley was just getting more and more flustered, "How have I never heard of them?"

Gabriel continued, "It's mainly because you were born too late. They used to be more common with early civilizations but their numbers started to diminish at a steady pace, either due to fear, accidents, war and the like. At some point in the 16th century, they went into some deep hiding. And when I say deep, I mean 'beyond the veil' deep. They spend years preparing and with the spells they weaved – just trust me on this, even angels can't find them. It's like they literally bent spaces in the world and made pockets for themselves. Oh, some still live in the human world, and some are even born out of ordinary humans due to recessive magic genes from some ancestor – better odds for the newborn if its on both sides of the family. But mostly, they stay hidden in their little magic land."

Crowley started to think about the situation that presented itself in front of him. "Well, this makes things easy then. With his latent abilities, we can carry out the Essentia Commutationem Ritual without any problems."

Gabriel stopped mid-jig at that. "You can't be serious. That ritual is used to transfer power between individuals. It was used to drain the life force of prisoners during wars to fuel spells."

Crowley engaged the poor angel in a magical debate at this point. He got the pad out of Gabriel's hand and began doodling, "Not if it's modified. Think about it, the matrix of the ritual circle would already break down the boy's natural defenses, allowing us access to his being. With that opened, you can hop in and remove the curse."

Gabriel just looked at the pad, "You keep saying 'we.' Why is there a 'we'?"

Harry was watching, cross-legged on the couch, head going back and forth between the two as they were talking out the finer points of this ritual. All that he was missing was popcorn – unfortunately, you can't miss what you never had.

Crowley just shrugged, "Look, the kid needs someone to take care of him, why not us?"

Gabriel just looked at the demon mortified. "Why not? Because an angel and a demon taking care of a kid is like the pilot of a bad sitcom!"

"It can be done. Besides, I want to take him in – you're just going to be the nanny."

Gabriel sighed in dearest. "Fine, but that still doesn't answer what you need the ritual for."

"Well, to make him a demon, of course. When you cleanse him, Harry and I will exchange essences to make us father and son – in spirit, of course. Although, blood will be transferred…"

Gabriel quickly checked the diagram they made so far, "That won't work. He may be a wizard, but you are still a demon, a powerful one at that…"

Crowley looked at the angel, "Are you coming on to me?"

"No jokes Crowley. He would be giving you more than you to him – the ratio doesn't work out."

Crowley took back the pad and started adding something new to the diagram, "That's where you come in. You are already going to be involved, so as long as your essence is in the mix, you would just act as an external power source."

Gabriel just kept hitting his head – gently – in annoyance against his knuckles, "Yeah, an Archangel sized one. The kid won't be able to handle it – it would be like using a dam to fill a swimming pool."

"Not if you allow your energy to fortify him."

Gabriel paused, "Wait, So…I'll be strengthening the host while you give him the filling? That…could work…"

At this point Gabriel was pacing across the room while Crowley just tapped his foot – Harry was just mesmerized by this all.

Gabriel looked back and pointed at Crowley, "You realize he will be something entirely new right?"

"Why? There have been Cambion and Nephilim in history before."

"No. This will be much worse. This would be the equivalent of both of them having a kid."

Crowley slowly put down the pad, "Which I assume never happened before."

Gabriel just kept putting his hands through his hair as of weighting some unknown options, "The closest equivalent imagined was by Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon in a comic, which had a quasi demon-angel hybrid named Genesis – which is what this kid would be if he ever loses his humanity." (1)

Crowley just looked at the kid on the couch who was focusing on the demon, "So, to be clear Gabriel… In literal terms, he would be ½ human, ¼ angel, and ¼ demon. Metaphysically, he would be human in soul, angel in vessel, and demon in spirit."

The library got quiet, the crackling of fire being the only sound heard.

Gabriel quickly put his hands in front of his eyes, twisting and waving them back and forth.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure I am not stoned. I haven't had a conversation this trippy since I accidentally ended up in Woodstock."

Crowley looked at the angel bug-eyed, "Wait, is that why that event got so crazy?"

Gabriel sheepishly tried to look anywhere but Crowley, "I…may have accelerated the process. If I don't focus, my grace 'bleeds' through. It's kind of why I have so little power in my Trickster persona - well, compared to my Archangel persona. Even as a Trickster, I got more juice than you."

"Only situationally. The magic of the crossroad contracts outclasses your reality bending any day."

"That's because you use the human soul to do so."

Harry finally interrupted, "So when are we doing the ritual?"

The demon and angel looked back at the kid on the couch. Gabriel slowly asked, "You do realize that if this ritual works, you won't be human anymore."

"Based on your conversation, it makes it seem that I was never human." Harry may have been illiterate, but he wasn't stupid – he had to be smart to survive as long as he did with the Dursley's.

Crowley decided to sit down next to the boy on the couch – the most father thing he has done in a long time. "Look, Harry – you were always human, just with magical gifts. If this ritual works, you will become part demon with a few angel blessings on the side. You would sacrifice almost everything that it would mean to be human."

Harry said just thirteen words. "What makes you think I would miss what I never did or had?"

No one talked – for what seemed like forever.

 _Note to self: make sure the Dursley's get Alastair as their torturer for all eternity._ Crowley though to himself.

Gabriel, without the joy and bravado he has shown earlier, was first to speak, "I'll start getting the circles ready."

Crowley nodded. "Harry, if you want anything, go get something from the fridge in the kitchen. Gabriel, I have to go get the tools and supplies. Ready in an hour?"

"Make it two – drawing a modified Triquetra will take some time."

"Really, were going Celtic on this?"

Gabriel corrected, "Technically, Druid – they best understood the flow of energies, so their designs are best for this."

Crowley nodded, "Alright team, you have your assignments – Break!"

Gabriel went to the torture corner, Crowley disappeared, and Harry was just confused – although his face didn't show it.

* * *

Harry was in the kitchen since he hasn't eaten all night.

He decided to leave the mad-scientist angel alone.

He decided to try cake for the first time in his life.

It was a Chocolate Fudge Devil's Food Cake.

It was delicious.

He tried the Angel Food Cake next.

He decided it needed more chocolate.

* * *

 **(1) Just in case I wasn't clear, I am referring to "Preacher," the comic and tv-show on AMC.**


	4. Devil's and Angel's Child

**Chapter 4: Devil's and Angel's Child**

* * *

 **AUTHOR's NOTE**

For those who know how to write in Latin correctly, I am sorry for butchering the language - I did the best I could with online translators.

* * *

"Are the chains really necessary?"

Harry was currently in the 'torture' section of the study in the center of a strangely drawn mystical diagram. To him, it looked like there oddly shaped circles overlaying on top of each other with him in the center intersection. This structure was within another circle, with the edges of the knots touching the circumference of the circle. All of this was circumferenced by a variety of sigils and symbols Harry couldn't even begin to understand.

Crowley and Gabriel stood opposite of each other just outside the circle, both facing Harry – although the boy could see only Crowley.

Harry was currently only in his underwear and glasses, with multiple symbols and markings drawn on him with some strange ink. Gabriel initially thought that all his scars and injuries would get in the way, but thankfully, there were only a few bumpy patches which they had to be careful about. He was standing up at the moment, but both his legs and arms were chained, attached to hooks on the ground inside the perimeter.

Crowley was first to answer since Gabriel was still fumbling with some solution he was mixing. "Look, Harry, this is the first time we are doing something like this. Also, whatever the bloody hell is on your forehead is not natural – its removal will be painful, and it will fight back. Dark magic is a nasty little bugger. Never knows when to leave…"

"Alright Crowley, the potion is ready. All we need is your and Harry's blood." Gabriel levitate the bowl to Harry along with some weirdly shaped knife. "Harry, just cut your finger – we only need a few drops."

Harry first put the bowl on the ground before grabbing the knife. Without a second thought, he cut right across his left hand. He made a fist, and a steady stream dripped into the solution. Neither adult in the room said a word regarding his decision.

When he was done, Crowley levitated both items to himself and repeated the same procedure as Harry, "You don't have to show off, you know that, right? You can show weakness around us – we aren't going to hit you."

"Sorry, just figured more blood would be better."

Gabriel just coldly laughed, "You know, there is a novel by Jeff Lindsay being turned into a series on Showtime next year whose main character talks eerily like you."

Harry turned his head to look at Gabriel, "What's Showtime?"

Gabriel leaned over to see Crowley who was mixing the solution, "Where did you find him, under a rock?"

Crowley calmly stated, "No, in a cupboard under the stairs."

Gabriel smile faltered, "You made sure the family that raised him went straight to Hell, right?"

"First thing I did. The kid finished up my work, though. Is there a word for to represent the act of killing your aunt?"

Gabriel thought about it, "Ironically, there isn't it. I mean, I can make one up from the language roots, but there is one for uncle – 'Avunculicide.' I never heard one for the other, but it had to have happened at some point. Must be an Old Testament thing."

Crowley just shrugged, "Alright, everything is done. You ready Harry?"

Harry checked that all the manacles were locked and in place before nodding.

Gabriel carefully worded his next statement, "Now I will say this one last time – this will be painful, and the whatever magic is using you as a vessel will fight back. There is a good chance you will pass out and not remember what happens here today. All you need to know is that when this is over, you will be changed. Do you understand and consent to what will occur here at this time?"

Harry was about to nod again, but Gabriel interjected, "I need to hear you say it – it's a free-will thing. Angel magic only works if there is consent."

Harry didn't really think about it before saying, "I consent to this."

And with that, the knot started to glow, and energy began to pour out of nowhere.

Harry didn't know what was happening, but he only heard Crowley start to chant something odd, _"Formam mutate datum vas laxant. Recludam antique in vas in alum. Servare puer angelum et dixit daemonium permittat nobis consonantiam…"_

That was the last thing Harry had remembered before he blacked out.

That and the unbearable pain.

* * *

Crowley almost broke his chanting when he heard the boy scream like some ungodly animal, but he couldn't break the spell once he started. He could only watch the kid thrash around trying to escape, hoping that Gabriel would know what to do.

The angel couldn't cross the circumference of the circle, but he used his powers to fuel the spell and began to try to keep the child in place.

Thankfully, the modifications they made now made the dark magic in the curse visible. The glowing of the sigils on the kid that made the black miasma pour out of the lightning-shaped scar was finally visible to the angel.

Harry's eyes were completely red at this point, foaming at the mouth like some Rabies-infected human. He kept trying to escape, but the chains kept pulling him back. When he was about to start to chew off his arm, Crowley finally chanted the section of the spell that 'opened' the boy to 'change.'

"… _Gaudete in signum in cicatrice orta est. Auferte malum cogitationum angelus Domini in cicatrice orta est. Gabrielis finiret misericordia resistentia mali…"_

The modified-Celtic knot finally glowed in full force, drawing more power from the angel. As the light engulfed the boy, he grasped his forehead with both hands, nails digging into the skull, bleeding full force.

Hands of light appeared out of the Archangel, extending into Harry's head. He let out one final guttural scream before going limp. Gabriel real hands began to move around, as is solving some invisible Rubix cube only he could see.

* * *

Deep in the forests of Albania at the same moment, a viper that currently housed a different fragment of the dark miasma spasmed and twisted in pain, as if a part of him was forcefully removed from his very being. (2)

* * *

Crowley continued to chant for almost thirty minutes while Gabriel sustained his brand of magic. Both were sweating, tired from the exertion, the child twitching at random moments on the ground.

Finally, Gabriel nodded, giving Crowley the heads up to finish the ritual.

"… _In pace et esto sana puerum vitae. Tumultuabitur puer perpetuo perpetuum mutati voluntate et electione. Protegi daemoni hunc peur angelum suum. Amen."_ (1)

The glow from the diagram began to fade, but the circle still remained in effect. The child was calmly sleeping. Both adults were on their knees, panting in full force.

Gabriel looked up at Crowley, "Was the 'Amen' really necessary?"

"It was a joint effort, and it was mostly your energy that made this endeavor possible. Besides, we made a new form of life – felt like giving God the finger since, you know… we played God." Crowley barely managed to get the statement out.

Gabriel started to laugh out loud, "If I weren't so tired I would go and smack you."

Crowley only chuckled, "Were you successful?"

Gabriel tilted his head to one side, "Yes and no. Yes, because I removed the influence and corruption of the curse from the boy so that it remains permanently dormant. No, because I couldn't physically remove it – it was some corrupted soul fragmented that already mixed with his soul. All I could do was rip out its wings, claws, teeth, and wang before putting it in a cage and locking it in the darkest corners of his mind."

Crowley just looked at the angel in a new light. "Anything else while you were in there?'

Gabriel finally got enough energy to get back to the couch. "Yeah. I modified his body physically to handle the next part. I also marked his ribs to keep him hidden from spells and prying eyes, but I had to change them to accept his future demon nature and such. I also slightly tinkered with his mind – he will thank me for it later."

Crowley was leaning on his table when he asked, still trying to catch his breath, "You went all Dr. Frankenstein on him, didn't you?"

"Not really. I just…removed a few injuries and organized it a bit better."

Crowley just looked back at Harry, making a quick look over to see if he was okay. "Well, might as well finish this up while he is passed out."

Gabriel huffed, "Right, because the essence exchange is going to be _so_ hard for you."

Crowley crossed the threshold of the circle to approach Harry. "Since he already gave consent," Crowley took Harry's right hand and dipped it in the leftover solution that was made. Crowley did the same with his own before connecting both hands.

"Now some words to bind the occasion – _Licentia concedatur. Potentia permutari. Fac nobis tenentur per quam anima. Luxta oris mei verba nos patrem et filium._ "

A red glow began to leave Crowley, traveling from his heart to his arm before entering Harry's arm and ending in his heart. Harry eventually did the same process when a wave of white energy entered Crowley in a similar manner. Crowley showed no reaction to this, but Harry kept spasming with each wave that entered him. This went on until eventually, Harry stopped twitching, and his breathing evened out.

Crowley calmly stood up and went to join Gabriel on the couch. "So, how was it? Better than advertised?"

"It felt like…a nice cup of coffee if I were being honest."

Both stared at the fire, watching the embers burn away.

"How long before all the magic settles in the boy?"

Gabriel checked the notepad they had made the diagrams on and did some quick calculations. "If we did everything correctly in our completely-untested-made-up-on-the-spot experiment, could be days or weeks. Worst case scenario, a month."

Crowley just tilted his head to the side, "Could have gone better. Should be more than enough time for his body to undergone metamorphosis. How do you feed him, though?"

Gabriel finally got enough energy to hop off the couch, "You leave taking care of the boy to me. You have been delayed long enough as it is. Your workers are probably already planning how to steal your throne with you gone for so long."

"It's been half a day. Besides, I told those sods to shove off for sending me to Britain. You would have to be dumber than a goat not to make an educated guess as to why I am not around."

Crowley got up, snapped his fingers to clean himself up and in presentable form.

'Meet up in a month?"

"Deal. Oh, bring back some virgin blood – we are running short in the pantry."

"Gabriel, it's hard enough as it is to find a pure women, let alone a virgin. How about a pint of blood?"

"We don't need much, but try to make it a quart."

"Fine." Crowley teleported at that moment to corners unknown while Gabriel gave a quick glance of his surroundings.

"Alright, clean up everything, unshackle the boy, give him a quick sponge bath, put him in bed, steal some IV drips and supplies from a nearby hospital, set up the medications so that he gets his nutrient and liquids. Am I missing anything?"

Gabriel was about to teleport before snapping his fingers in realization, "Oh, right, the laptop. My porn is still paused."

* * *

 **(1) I can not for the life of me find the English text I had for these passages which really grinds my gears. All I can is that I am sorry. Basically, it dealt with preparing Harry as the vessel for demon and angel energies, as well as protection for his changing form by said entities.**

 **(2) Quirrel did find the shade of Voldemort there before he started teaching DADA and despite my efforts, nowhere does it say that a shade couldn't feel a part of them be destroyed. For sanity sake, I am working under the assumption that the only reason that Voldy couldn't feel his Horcruxes be destroyed in the later books is that he got a new body, weakening his mental connections to them.** That, **or the ritual used by Crowley and Gabriel was just that powerful.**


	5. Our Little Monster

**Chapter 5: Our Little Monster**

* * *

 _One month later…_

It was a sweltering August in Massachusetts – a rarity if there has ever been one.

Crowley teleported to his hidden cabin, mainly to check if everything was okay. Gabriel hasn't contacted him in any way for the last few days, and this worried the demon. The angel couldn't go a day without at least calling him and - with the advent of the smartphone - texting as an alternative. Granted, he was playing nurse for Harry, but he sincerely doubted it could be that difficult.

Crowley found them in one of the bedrooms on the second floor. They were all empty except for a single bed and a closet, out of conformity then necessity – demons and angels didn't need sleep. Crowley just made the rooms as a precaution in case anything came up in the future.

Harry's bedroom – in the short time that it was made his – was transformed into a full-blown hospital room. There was an EKG monitor, multiple drips, a breathing mask, everything that could possibly be seen in a top notch hospital critical care ward. Harry was laying under a few sheets, arms on top, looking…different. Crowley didn't get a good lock before spotting Gabriel on the side of the bed, reading a book of all things, while maintaining two fingers on the boy's forehead.

Crowley was speechless.

Gabriel looked up from the book. "Oh, hey Crowley. Has it been a month already?"

"Just…what…how…" Crowley was speechless – this event could be counted on one hand for the number of times it has happened.

Gabriel checked what the demon was looking at, "Yeah…the situation was MUCH worse than anticipated, but it's been taken care of. I had to go statewide to get all the supplies, but I don't think anyone actually noticed a few missing machines."

Crowley clutched his forehead, "Gabriel, before I lose my bleeding mind trying to understand how this escalated so badly, you mind explaining to me slowly how it got to this point?"

Crowley was already at his limits patience wise. He had just finished sorting out the mess of all the demons killed out of Elizabethville, Ohio. Ever since it became Sin City, a few too many crossroads demons got killed off by the Winchesters in their crossfire with the "Seven Deadly Sins." (1)

"Right…you may want to sit down…this will take a while."

Crowley, not seeing another chair in the room, sat on Harry's bed, making sure not to touch the boy. Gabriel put down the book – which Crowley finally noticed was a reference book on raising troubled kids – and took his fingers off Harry before facing Crowley.

"Crowley, you are aware how we demons and angels are just essence? No physical bodies of use and such? Kind of why we search for vessels…"

"This is kid stuff Gabriel, get to the point."

Gabriel didn't like getting interrupted, and it showed, "Okay, fine! Where did you find your vessel, the one you are using now? What is he, a litigator or something."

Crowley just shrugged, "He is a moderately successful literary agent from New York but what does that have to do with…" (2)

"Is he your perfect vessel?"

Crowley thought about it for a second, "He is…very close. I use others from time to time but this one…is pretty darn close to how I used to look. It just gives me the greatest access to my powers..."

Gabriel interrupted, "Because it feels natural to you. It is the same for my body - I found it all the way back in Scandinavia during the IRON AGE. It had the best synch compared to all the other bodies I ever used, so I kept him youthful and immortal with my powers. And before you ask, his mind died long ago – what was left of it anyway…"

Crowley got freaked out at this, "Wait, you've used the same meat suit for over…"

Gabriel didn't want to bring to the age of his host, "ANYWAY…Harry still has a physical body, but he now has demon essence and blood, as well as angel juice in his veins. Generally, as a spirit, he would just search the world for a suitable vessel. But since he has a body to work with… the magic's got to work."

It dawned on Crowley what the angel was implying, "So the energies are actively changing him into his 'perfect form'?"

Gabriel got a slightly panicked look in his eyes, "'Perfect' may be too strong of a word. It is better to say that the process used your blood to make him look similar to you since I already strengthened the material to work with. Unfortunately, the process was arduous on the boy, too taxing for his meager energy resources. His first week was just me shoving supplements down his throat by the bucket full and treating his heart-attacks. It calmed down during the second week, so I got down to business and started uploading the English language into his brain. I finished quickly, got bored, and started adding other stuff as well. THAT'S when I found the real problem caused by his transformation."

Crowley was just befuddled, "So, ignoring the fact that you basically made him Neo from the freaking 'Matrix' movies…What could be worse than undergoing the Kafka experience?"

Gabriel slowly realized he was screwed either way, "You remember when I said I tinkered with his mind? Re-arranged it so to speak? All I did was simply organize it a bit more, made it more functional and such. You would be surprised how inefficient the human brain is… The point is, the transformation deep cleaned his mind. Don't know if that was due to some oversight on our part in the spell or the boy wanted it but…"

Crowly basically rushed Gabriel to the wall at this point, "But what? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HIM?"

"We may have technically given him alexithymia."

At this point, Crowley dropped the angel, "We what?"

Dusting himself off, Gabriel continued his explanation, "Alexithymia is defined clinically as 'the inability to identify and describe emotions in the self.' Long story short, he can't recognize or feel his feelings and the bodily sensations of emotional arousal. Thankfully, it's not so bad for him."

"NOT SO BAD?! I WANTED A SON, NOT THE FREAKING TERMINATOR!"

Gabriel had to calm the prospective grieving parent quickly before things got out of hand, "I said 'technically.' He doesn't really have alexithymia – he just no longer has any emotional experiences to fall back on anymore. Maybe his subconscious wanted a clean slate, but he personally didn't want to forget what had happened to him in _that house_. The ritual must have compromised between the two extremes and just…muted the experiences."

Crowley finally calmed down and steadily asked, "So…what is the difference?"

Gabriel got as technical as he could to appease Crowley, "He will know and understand what emotions are and how to respond to them. It's just that he has no emotional context for his memories. This means that all his recollections are intact – now sharper than ever because of it - but instead of color, they are in black and white."

"I don't get it – why is this such a big deal?" Crowley was no expert of the human mind – just human greed.

Gabriel sighed, "If you bothered reading any psychology book in all your years, you would figure out that while our past makes us what we are, it is the subtext behind the events of our lives that give the impact behind them. Consider an African-American robbing a store and being caught by the police. With emotions, the African-American had to rob the place to survive due to the lifelong persecution he has undergone from the bigoted police force that made his social-economic status very low. No emotions, a robber stole supplies to survive and had no feelings one way or the other regarding the cops he killed – they were just in the way. It is a small distinction, but it makes a world of difference. Look, it's too complicated to explain properly to you, but basically, the kid is a robot now…more so then he initially was."

Crowley just looked back at the boy in the hospital bed, "That could be a problem. Is there a way around it? I mean, we could just…raise him from this point on as normal…"

Gabriel just shook his head, "No, that won't work; it would be like watering dead-land – nothing will grow. Medically, we have no choices. Magically, though, we have options."

Crowley gave the angel a judging look, "What do you have in mind?"

"You ever hear of 'psychic vampires'? You know, beings like wraiths, succubi, maenads, phobophages, and nogitsunes, that feed on aspects of human emotions? Well, basically, we need to find some saps and drain them dry."

Crowley started to weight the options, "How many are we talking about here?"

Gabriel began to pace, "Probably some subset of eight."

Crowley got confused, "So how many – eight, sixteen twenty-four, thirty-six?"

"I DON'T KNOW YET!"

Gabriel didn't show it, but he was equally worried about Harry as well. Crowley now realized this and decided to calm him down, "Why eight, though? Is it for some mystical significance?"

Gabriel calmed himself down before explaining, "Psychologist Pia Mellody and others agree that human beings have eight basic emotions which break down further and mix into each other to create the vast spectrum of feelings available to us. The basic emotions are anger, fear, pain, joy, passion, love, shame, and guilt."

Crowley nodded, "Seems about right."

"So… we need to gather a few people, because even if we get the basic emotions, there are shades to them. If we are lucky, we may not need more than a dozen. Otherwise, it can go on for a while. Also, there is one snafu to this whole thing…"

Crowly started to rub the bridge of his nose, "What else can possibly be wrong?"

Gabriel pointed at Harry. "He has to drain them."

This is what officially caught Crowly off-guard. "Wait, are you saying he has to go all vampire on them?"

Gabriel got solemn at this point, "When he finally wakes up, he will be savage – not cold-blooded, but animalistic. We need to find a place for him to hunt while we or one of us monitors from a distance. As he consumes more and more emotional essences, his humanity will slowly return to him, which will make it easier to proceed. Eventually, we should be properly be able to see his essence when he gets his fill. Afterward, we go black-ops and get him out of the area and back to the cabin."

Crowley looked at the child in bed. Now that he got a good look at him, he indeed has changed. On the mystical spectrum, Crowley noted that Harry's soul – which was once blindingly white with a black shade in it - now had a dark red hue to it with a black orb orbiting it with a white haze around it all. Physically, while he was still six years old – wait, seven, he just had his birthday – he looked older now. His hair – once untidy and dark – was now long, sleek, and onyx black. His eyes, if Crowley could see them, would also be a darker shade of green as well – probably shamrock green. His body – while still scared and burned – was now filled out, somewhat muscularly defined. His arms and legs were longer – not freakishly, but enough to note the advantages in the future. Basically, he went from malnourished and broken all the way to seeming like a somewhat tall kid who regularly engaged in intensive sports and exercise with injuries to show for it.

Crowley was weighing the pros and cons, "How is he going to get it?"

"Think of it like sucking out their souls through their mouths, like the Facehuggers from the 'Alien' franchise. He won't kill any of them – his humanity is still in there – but he will injure them. Some, very badly. Others, not so much. If we play our cards rights, no one will die, and you still get the souls in the end if they are in your ledger."

Crowley looked back upon Harry. "Well, I didn't think I would introduce Harry to the supernatural world in such a way, but hopefully he won't remember draining them."

Gabriel nodded, agreeing with the demon's statement, "I'll get him dressed up and prepped. The final question, though… do you know a place that has people with such emotional peaks, and that won't notice so many people being attacked in such a way or even becoming missing?"

Crowley thought about it for a second and smiled, "Actually, I know a perfect place for him to drain some unsuspecting shmucks."

* * *

 _Early September…_

"So, Bobby, anything weird on the spook-radar this week?"

The Winchester boys were currently outside Rowlins, Wyoming, having just gotten through a run-of-the-mill exorcism. They were outside their motel, eating burgers and pies while leaning on their Impala. Despite what happened with the Devil's Gate a few months back, Wyoming seemed no worse for wear.

Sam just looked at his brother in incredulity after taking a sip of his soda, "Dean, are you seriously asking Bobby for work? Dude, the craziness has just died down, and you want to look for trouble? You have less than a year left…"

Dean looked up from the phone at his younger sibling, "And I plan to make sure I to live every moment of it, Sammy. Now talk to me, Bobby."

Bobby answered the boys – he was on speaker – before the argument started up again, "Sorry Dean. It seems like everything is quite in your neck of the woods. I am with Sammy on this one – go and find a way to get out of your deal. Although…"

Dean picked up on the old man's wariness, "What, Bobby? Come on, don't hold out on me."

Noises which sounded like papers rustling were heard on the other end of the line, "Well… there was some strange stuff happening in Las Vegas…"

Sammy just laughed, "Bobby, this is Vegas we're talking about here - the place where crazy is the norm."

"Yeah, I know, but this is weird even for them. Hospitals there have been getting people admitted with comas."

Dean just shrugged while eating his pie, "So – what's so weird? People probably got mugged and beaten to near-death – it is the real 'Sin City.'"

Bobby just replied, "Nope. They _were_ mugged but there were no significant injuries. The weird thing is what happened when the people woke up…"

Dean stopped mid-bite, "Wait, what do you mean 'woke up'? I thought a coma was like, a long time deal."

Bobby was getting annoyed, "Not all cases are like that, you idjit. Some comas are short, like in these cases. They are admitted comatose, and a day or two later they wake up. But the issue is that when they wake up, they have no emotions."

Sam got a worried look on his face, "You mean, they are emotionless?"

"No, I mean, they have no emotions whatsoever – their noggins have all the files in place, but it seems like all the wires have been cut. They still have their memories and know how the world works, but the folks are like freaking zombies now – dead on the inside. Officially, the examiner is diagnosing them with sudden extreme alexithymia. The problem is, you can't get this condition even with a possible head injury; you got to be born with it."

Dean finished his pie before asking, "Who are the victims?"

"Let me check here… it seems like we have a pimp, a guy who owned a bookie a lot of money, a girl with a broken arm, a kid on a winning streak, a couple on their honeymoon, a group of guys from a bachelor party, and a few more."

Dean noticed that he was evasive, "Damn it, Bobby, give me a number."

Only a sigh was heard on the other end, "As far as I can tell, there was two dozen."

The boys nearly did spit-takes, "TWENTY-FOUR PEOPLE HAD THEIR EMOTIONS STOLEN? How in all that is good in the world of hard-rock are we only hearing about this now?"

"Cus' it happened last month, and it has stopped since last week."

Sam got a worried look on his face, "What do you mean it stopped?"

"I mean, ever since last week, there have been no more victims – that, or the casinos got involved and are starting to cover it up."

"Don't you mean the local government?"

Bobby quickly corrected Sam, "Nope – casinos run that town. Anyway, since no one has been attacked, the case has been put on the backburner seeing as we have been, you know, busy dealing with the escaped demons and all."

Dean quickly asked, "Did another Hunter get involved?"

"Nope, sorry Dean. We old–timers share everything – easier to notice patterns and the like. Nobody claimed a kill in the area or send anyone out there. A rogue Hunter is also unlikely."

Dean was starting to get pissed, "Damn it, Bobby, you should have told us sooner. Look, we are about a day or two out of Nevada. Let me and Sammy check it out."

There was nothing Bobby could do at this point, "Alright, but listen up boys: you are simply doing recon. I haven't got the foggiest clue just what the hell could have possibly done this, so don't go doing anything crazy."

Dean just laughed, "Bobby, it's Las Vegas – things are gonna get crazy."

* * *

 _Meanwhile…_

Crowley and Gabriel were sitting in the study, trying their best to ignore the guttural screams of Harry in the corner, all chained up - _again_.

Harry kept thrashing back and forth trying to escape. If it weren't for his momentary lapses of clarity getting progressively more frequent, the guys would have drugged him to prevent further harm.

"I thought you said he would get better after taking the emotional essences."

"Give it time, Crowley. Let his mind organize and take them all in – it's not something you can rush. If I could, don't you think I would have used my angel mojo to heal him by now?"

Crowley was shaking, but he understood, "Sorry, I am just nervous. I can't watch this anymore…he has been at it for a week. Can't we do anything to help."

"Can you help an addict detox faster? You leave him alone, and suffer watching him be in pain. Consider this your first lesson as a parent – watching and being unable to do anything to help your kid because it is outside your control."

Crowley put his head down in shame, but Gabriel approached him, putting his hand on Crowley's shoulder. "Look, Crowley, he is stronger than you give him credit. Yes, he went a little 'monstery' because of what he how to do to get the essence – seriously reminded me of the face huggers from the 'Alien' movie – but it was necessary. Besides, all the victims are still alive and kicking. Trust me; it will be better."

Crowley just sat there quietly looking at the fireplace, "I believe you, Gabriel…So much longer to you think this will go on?"

Gabriel looked back at Harry, who was now on the floor twisting himself in chains, digging at the air. "Hopefully, this will end by new moon – lack of moonlight usually kills some magics."

"So…we agonize ourselves for three more days."

"Yes, but in three days, he will finally be whole. Then the real work and joy starts."

"Oh, goody," stated Crowley sarcastically.

The pair sat in silence while Harry continued to thrash around. About five minutes later, panic suddenly appeared on Gabriel's face.

"What now?" noticed Crowley.

"Nothing, it's just…" spoke the angel while rubbing his neck.

"Well… spit it out…"

"Well… these are Harry's formative years and we have been chaining him up a little too often for my liking… I am honestly just hoping that this doesn't come back to bite as in the ass if he becomes a sadomasochist with a fetish for being chained up."

* * *

 **(1) Season 3, Episode 4, "Seven Deadly Sins".**

 **(2) Vessel information revealed in Season 5, Episode 20, "The Devil You Know"**


	6. We Went Too Far

**Chapter 6: We Went Too Far**

* * *

 **HAPPY NEW YEAR! 2017!**

* * *

 _September 11th, 2007 – Midnight_

"Ow…Just, ow…"

Harry was slowly waking up on the cold hardwood floors. A quick look around told him immediately that he was still in the library.

"Rise…Rise, my son…"

Harry heard a smack before hearing Crowley speak, "Shut up, Gabriel. This is not the time and place for this."

Harry made a hasty examination of his surroundings. He checked his body – now without sigils and markings that he remembered were part of the ritual. That's when he noticed the hair – it was covering is eyes way too much. Now that he took note, his nails and limbs were too long, his body… more robust then he recalled.

Harry parted his hair before realizing he was still in handcuffed by the legs and knees, the appendages red from wear and tear.

Harry saw Crowley and Gabriel standing by the couch, carefully observing his reactions. He has seen those looks before…

"Guys, how long was I out?"

Both of the supposed adults in the room checked back with other, too afraid to answer.

" _HOW LONG?"_

Everyone in the room paused. Gabriel and Crowley both got weapons out of their clothes before either realizing what just happened – they got frightened by Harry.

Harry, on the other hand, was trying to figure how his voice got that…menacing. That was also when he noticed that he managed to rip the chains out of the floor.

His head was suddenly in pain. He saw flashes of things…things he never did… places he has never been in…people screaming in fear…

He slowly looked up at the demon and angel cautiously approaching him.

"Crowley, Gabriel, please… tell me what happened?"

* * *

 _A few minutes later…_

"TWO MONTHS? I WAS IN A COMA FOR TWO MONTHS?"

Crowley, Harry, and Gabriel were currently in the kitchen, enjoying a late night meal. Generally, angels and demons don't need to eat, but seeing as how Harry hasn't consumed anything in such an extensive time, they faked it best they could.

Crowley was trying his best not to tap his fingers on the table, "Well…you were actually out for a month. The rest of the time…"

Harry remembered the vision flashes. "No…Did I break out? Did I kill someone in Boston?"

Gabriel answered rapidly, "No on both counts. You did, however, go a little crazy in Las Vegas, Nevada." Gabriel casually mentioned this as he gave Harry more meat, which he inhaled – he was famished.

"NEVADA? How the hell did I get to Nevada?...Where's Nevada?"

Crowley jumped in, "Other side of America. Let's just say that the demon essence in you temporarily overpower your soul and we had to let you loose to…get the extra energy out of your system."

Harry banged his hand on the table, " _DON'T LIE TO ME CROWLEY."_

Again, Harry's words took on a predatory, cold, quiet tone. It's the kind of voice you hear from a professional assassin or the devil himself. It's the kind of sound that stops you in your tracks and makes you reconsider who the apex predator is.

Crowley and Gabriel knew he could do it, but it is still caught them off guard. It was an instinctual response from some primitive part of the human brain – one that even spirits like Crowley and Gabriel had no control over in their vessels. Just consider what it can do to a normal person…

Harry coughed, his throat hoarse, "I have… to get that voice…under control."

Gabriel asked, "How are you doing that by the way? That's not something demons or angels can do. You using magic or is that something natural to you now?...Oh dear God, we actually made Genesis…"

Harry thought about, "Not really sure. I was angry last time, this time I was annoyed…Negative emotions? That's not the issue here – tell me, what happened in Vegas?"

Gabriel tried not to laugh at that phrase – it has been said way too many times in history.

Crowley carefully crafted his response, "We think that your subconscious mind tried to erase all that happened to you in the Dursley's house by using our ritual as a foci. Instead, your conscious mind chose to resist and as an alternative, removed all emotions from your memories. If it literally took emotions from your memories specifically or just did significant damage to your limbic system, we don't know. All we were able to understand is that there was a serious disconnection with all the new mystical energies in your body. You went primal, some weird aspect of my demon essence came to the surface, made you into a 'psychic vampire' that needed to satiate your need for emotions. Long story short, Las Vegas was a cesspool of them, nobody died or was significantly injured, your back to normal with no chance of relapse in the future, and now we can start raising you as my son – with Gabriel acting as the crazy uncle who helps me out."

Harry looked at Crowley deadpanned before turning and asking Gabriel, "Is he serious?"

Gabriel took a small camera out of nowhere, "We have pictures. You want to see?"

Harry raised both hands, "NO! I BELIEVE YOU! It's just…it's not something I can just bury under the rug or something…"

Crowley looked at Gabriel, pleading with his eyes for the angel to do something to raise the boy's spirits.

"Harry… you want to see a movie like a normal family?"

Harry slowly started to smile, "Sure…what movie?"

Crowley smiled as well, "I believe that they just made a remake of '3:10 to Yuma'." (1)

Gabriel got excited, "Good. Let's jam!"

All three were teleported to a theater in Boston to spend the next two hours being a family and enjoying a great movie.

* * *

 _September 12th, 2007 – Noon_

The gang teleported back to the lodge – after a movie, very early morning breakfast, and a quick shopping trip to get clothes for Harry.

With Harry's new longer limbs, finding something that fit him was particularly challenging, especially since Harry kept tripping over his own feet. Crowley and Gabriel finally settled on the all-black ensemble for the kid – he was too pale for colors but not pale enough to make his new clothes get him to look like a Twilight wanna-be.

Thank god Harry didn't get the reference at the time when Gabriel made the joke.;

Crowly and Gabriel were no worse for wear, yet Harry was dead tired after the long exertion, particularly since he carried all the bags.

"Look, guys, I know you trying to get me acquainted with my new body and all, but you realize I have been in a closet for most of my life – I am not used to this much activity and heavy lifting."

Gabriel just laughed, "Calm down Harry. Just be happy we only went clothes shopping. I had half-a-mind to go get you a…"

"GABRIEL! Not now. Harry, just put the clothes in your room and met us in the study…We have to take inventory."

"Sure thing, Crowley."

Crowley paused, "Look, Harry… I know we are all new to this but… let's try calling me 'Dad.'."

Gabriel jumped in, "He has to call me 'Uncle' then. Only makes it fair."

Harry looked a bit conflicted. This was a man – who from his linear perspective – just rescued him a day or so ago from the Dursley's. To him, calling the demon before him 'Dad' was a bit too alien, but…

"Alright… Dad. I'll see you upstairs."

After Harry had left the room, Crowley did his best not to smile.

Gabriel, smiling ear to ear, "Oh, did the Grinch's heart grow three sizes last night?"

"Shut up, Gabriel – don't ruin the moment."

* * *

Harry was currently standing in front of Crowley and Gabriel, both sitting on the couch, observing him. Crowley currently had a notepad and pen in his hands while Gabriel had a camera.

Harry just looked at the smirking angel, "Are the pictures necessary?"

Gabriel was just kiddy, "It's like watching a child walk for the first time – we are gonna immortalize this for as long as possible."

"Speaking of which," interjected Crowley, "is he immortal now?"

Gabriel started thinking about it, "Not yet. His current vessel – your body, Harry – is gonna live a long time, especially since you are a wizard – yes, despite everything we did, you are still, on a fundamental level, a wizard. If nothing happens, you live a good few centuries, no problem notwithstanding. Dying, however, will make you immortal – in a sense."

Harry was about to interrupt, but Gabriel kept going, "You can't kill yourself; gonna have to die in the line of duty, accident, or old age. But when you do, it's going to be just your soul left, and that thing is like a fusion reactor cubed. You'll do the same thing as all of us, which is finding yourself a vessel and be truly immortal. Just to clarify, immortality includes a long life span and being unaffected by disease, toxins, or time. There will also be the fact you won't require food, water, oxygen, or sleep."

Harry slowly took it all in, "Do I have these abilities now or…?"

Gabriel thought it through, "You still have a body, so you still need sleep and food, but at much lower levels. You are probably susceptible to time but on a much weaker level – same for disease and toxins. Other than that, your body is still mortal by human standards. I give you a good six centuries before your body finally gives in to natural causes."

Harry gawked at the adults in the room. "Just how old are you guys?"

"I am about three and a half centuries – young for a demon."

"I was made by God so… as old as the universe?"

Harry nearly fainted at that revelation. "Anyway, back to the topic at hand. So, Uncle Gabe - what can you do?"

Gabriel started to count off his fingers, "Let's see… lower tier night-omnipotence, nigh-omniscience, immortality, super strength, super senses, shape shifting, teleportation, telepathy, empathy, telekinesis, chronokinesis, conjuration, self-duplication, reality warping, …oh, and superhuman bravado and sex appeal."

Crowley just looked at the angel annoyed, "I am not writing down the last two, no matter how much you argue."

Gabriel just chuckled, "Fine, fine…Look, I know you're gonna be weaker than me, but we still have to know what you have up your sleeve."

Crowley started writing on the pad for his column, "Mostly same things but toned down. Immortality, supernatural perception, super strength, super senses, teleportation, telekinesis, electrokinesis, pyrokinesis, thermokinesis, biokinesis, terrakinesis, invisibility, spell casting, memory manipulation, and animal communication."

Harry just stood there, trying his best not to fall over. He tried to keep the conversation going, though, "What about weaknesses? You are bound to have some."

Gabriel started to tick off fingers again, "Lucifer's Cage, Enochian sigils, blood spells, holy fire, Heaven's weapons, angel blades, Hand of God, and Death's Scythe."

Crowley did the same, "Devil's traps, holy water, angel blades, demon-killing knifes, angels, higher demons, exorcism, and some forms of magic."

Harry couldn't help but notice something odd, "Wait, there was a lot of things there I don't get, but something is bothering me - how come Crowley has more powers?"

Gabriel would have done a spit-take if he had water, "Are you deaf or something? I WAS MADE BY GOD! I warp reality at my whim!"

"But you can't do spells or manipulate energies."

Gabriel paused and looked at the watch on his wrist, "That is the fastest anyone has ever picked up on that ."

Crowley just snickered, 'Seriously? You can manipulate reality, read people's minds, and TRAVEL THROUGH FREAKING TIME, but you can't manage the basics forces of nature or spellcraft? That's like skipping learning how to walk and going straight to flying a freaking plane!"

Harry had to ask something that Crowley was overlooking regarding the angel, "Is it because you don't have a soul?"

Crowley hesitated, "Harry, you may be new to this, but everything that the big bearded man in the sky made has a soul. It kind of how life is made – no soul, no fuel, no life…"

Gabriel started to panic chuckle, "Actually, that's not ENTIRELY true, Crowley. I mean… it's not a secret or anything, but…it isn't something we angels like to bring up."

Crowley just looked at Gabriel in silence, but Harry had to ask, "Then…how do angels work then?"

Gabriel started to walk around the room, pacing from one end to the other, "We angels are like automatons – we act like humans, we function like humans, but we aren't humans. We know the secrets of the universe, we can see reality on the smallest of levels, we can jump from one century to the next, we experience life on the same fundamental level as all of Father's creations…BUT WE AREN'T TRULY ALIVE! We are compressed Suns walking around claiming to be Pinocchio who became human."

Crowley had to ask, "Where do you go when you guys die?"

Gabriel got depressed at this, "We just seize to exist. It's 'Game Over' for us – no continuation, no returns, no second chances."

Harry got a worried look on his face which Crowly noted, "Nothing to worry 'bout Harry, he isn't going to be kicked off the board anytime soon. He is an Archangel of the Lord – one of the strongest things in creation… Definitely top 10…Now, back to the boy."

Gabriel perked up, "Yeah, so what do you expect, Crowley? He gets all of our abilities and more?"

Harry started to look at his hands, "I'll have so much power?"

Gabriel couldn't help himself, "Okay, seriously, I have to introduce you to music when this is over, or you'll remain a 'straight man of comedy' for the rest of your life… The line is sung ' _I GOT THE POWER_ '…" (2)

"GABRIEL! Time and place!"

"Sorry, Crowley…"

Gabriel looked back to the columns on the pad, "While I sincerely doubt he is going to ever be in your weight class Gabriel, I see a few power overlaps here that are certain. We should test Harry for the following: super strength, super senses, supernatural perception, teleportation, and telekinesis. While we are at it, we should also check if he is able to manipulate energies and perform spells. Also, should we look into the possibilities of him inheriting our weaknesses?

Gabriel interjected, "First, what energies are we talking here – pyrokinesis, electrokinesis, ferrokinesis, other forms of kinesis? Secondly, most of our weaknesses apply to everyone – just look at angel blades. What we should really check are your weaknesses – you are now the boy's father, in spirit and blood."

Crowley started to tap his fingers, "So, I guess we check for holy water, salt, iron, and Devil's trap. Should we test for exorcism and Enochian sigils?

Gabriel tapped his chin, "Exorcisms may be the one thing that can kill Harry since his soul and vessel are one and the same on a mystical level. Sigils and spells are a different story – each is made to repel something explicitly KNOWN. Harry is something entirely new – there is no spell, no ritual, no potion, no mystic hoodoo-voodoo that is expressly crafted to repel him."

Harry got a bit conflicted regarding that, "So, I am unkillable… That doesn't bode well for me, that seems like tempting fate…"

"Oh don't worry Harry, you are entirely killable, and in all fairness, Fate isn't really that easy to tempt – I know from trying to hook up with her. Your body is still technically human, just magically enhanced – it would take _a lot_ of effort, but it could be done. No, you would have… an adverse reaction to holy water, possibly salt, and definitely iron – that is a universal response for most magical beings to that particular metal. We may have to test the Devil's trap, though – that may actually hold you back."

Crowley started making a checklist, "Alrighty then, let's start simple then. Should we try testing for strength and endurance?"

Gabriel cracked his knuckles, "Leave that to me – I'll start training him soon enough. By the time I am done, he will be hunting werewolves for fun."

Crowley nodded. "Okay, then, let's move on to super senses. Harry, anything you would like to share?"

"Besides the fact that I am never leaving this house until the scent of sewage, perfume, and grease leaves my nostrils? No, not much."

Crowley laughed – an honest laugh at that, "Good, sarcasm – a fine weapon of choice. I can only assume that sound and sight are equally hard to control?"

Hary had to nod at that – it was like living in a world of ultra-high definition…How did he know that?

"Fine. Gabriel, I can only assume that getting his senses all filled away and tunned up are going to be covered by you as well?"

"Yep. In fact, let's just leave all the physical activities under my jurisdiction – I'll be Coach Gabriel, you be Professor Crowley."

"And what am I supposed to be – troublemaker Bart Simpson?…Okay, what is going on? How do I know this?"

Gabriel started smirking, "I guess the download actually took hold – must have been passively being installed. Figured you were getting around town easier than anticipated."

Crowley perked up, "Is that why how he spoke Spanish in the diner? Thought I misheard him."

Harry freaked out at that, "¿Yo hablo español? Espere… Que acabo de decir?"

Gabriel got a panicked look, "Oh, damn - it went into active mode. Harry, Harry… listen. You have to calm down. Go sit on the couch, have something to drink," he made soda appear in his hands, cup and ice, before giving it to the boy, "and let me explain."

Harry started to drink the soda in large gulps while Crowley watched the angel.

"When you were… out of it… I figured it would have been a good time to teach you how to read and write. Normally, such a thing would be easy but… you were undergoing a metamorphosis, and the standard neural connections that most kids your age would have weren't there. So I did a little restructuring, little remodeling, got everything hooked-up…Basically, I brought your head up to code. Following so far?"

Both Harry and Crowley nodded. Crowley was already aware that the angel did something in the boy's mental attic, but he wanted to know the fine details.

"Okay, so you see, there is this notion of something called a 'mental palace.' It's something the doctors in brain and psychology community came upon a while ago, but really, Arthur Conan Doyle coined it way back when. In essence, it a process of training the mind to organize itself – a place for everything, and everything in its place. Now, beings like me – and to some level Crowley and anyone long-living – need a system like this in place to organize all the information we take in over time. It's why the very notion of immortality is impractical – sure, you'll live forever, but the brain simply can't handle more than a century's worth of memories. Once someone normal – like a vanilla human – passes one hundred, things just start getting…overwritten. It's not Alzheimer's or Dementia bad, but it becomes apparent after a while. The physical skills stay - that's muscle memory, which can't disappear – but trying to remember how you learned that skill is bound to mess you up after a while. Thankfully, Wolverine has yet to run into that issue since they keep erasing his memories…"

"Gabriel, focus."

"Right, sorry Crowley. Anyway, I had a similar thought that Crowley brought up earlier regarding immortality and the like, which is why I did what I did. So after about a week of working – don't give me that look, Crowley, it wasn't easy – you finally stabilized, and your condition was progressing along nicely. So I started slacking off, watched some Youtube and it hit me! Even if you knew the language, you weren't up to date with society and culture. So, being the good Uncle, I decided to correct that little oversight and did a massive info-dump."

Crowley pointed up a finger, almost afraid to ask, "How much information are we talking here, Gabriel? You didn't just go and fill his head with junk, did ya?"

Gabriel shook his hands in front of himself, "No, no…well, not really…maybe. Okay, I started off with the biggest events in the last decade or so news wise. Then, I added culturally significant works and the like. But then I realize he needed context behind them, but I didn't want his head cluttered with useless trivia regarding the celebrities and the like. I also didn't want to dump music, movies, and tv shows since that is something you pick out because you like them. Then there was an issue regarding world history…"

Crowley could only hold his forehead in desperation, "Just what did you dump into him?"

Gabriel chuckled a bit sheepishly, "Long story short, he now knows all the world languages – speaking, reading, and writing."

Crowley was gonna scream in shock but then, "THAT…is not entirely as bad as I thought it was going be… anything else?"

"I gave him the bullet point of all RECORDED world history – with some corrections – as well as highlights for all the nations of the world. Figured it would be handy."

Crowly nodded, making sure Harry followed, "Proceed."

"After that, I put in all relevant cultural events and proceedings that have made their way into common vernacular or usage. Anything else that he might need to know or look up can be done by his own choosing. I did, however, connect the dots, as it were, in his mind. As an example, if someone mentions Jim Carrey, Harry would know the relevant films, some famous quotes, maybe even some things about him. He won't however, know the movies from memory, stuff he has done, or anything that deep regarding the man. Same can be said if he hears something like, "My precious." He may know that it was used in _Lord of the Rings_ , but he won't necessarily know what or who it pertains to. You get what I mean?"

Crowley shrugged, "Seems simple enough. It's like playing six degrees of separation."

Harry jumped in, "Are you referring to Kevin Bacon or the actual concept?"

Gabriel smiled, "See, just like that. I also added essential coverage of most topics covered in school and some he SHOULD know. I didn't generalize either; I didn't just go ahead and dump some rudimentary understanding of the sciences and the like. No, I went topic by topic, subject by subject. Harry can now have a basic conversation regarding anything under the spectrum, from simple biology to calculus to art history and even quantum physics."

"I am assuming you left enough room in there for something afterward?"

Gabriel clapped his hands, "That the best part! All I did was leave footnotes, summaries, and citations. The world is an oyster for anything Harry chooses to indulge himself with! Music, literature, art, television…That's free will at its best - when the individual is perfectly informed about his choices regarding everything!"

Crowly quickly pointed out a flaw in his speech, "Except the supernatural."

Gabriel was caught off guard, "I put in mythology in there…"

"But not our form of supernatural. Nothing on magic, spellcraft, rituals, potions, nothing actually pertaining the world he would be involved in?"

Gabriel realized that Crowly misunderstood his intentions, "Ah, I see what you mean. There are two reasons for that. One, this is one of those things better learned in person – the connection between knowledge and magic has to organic, not forced. It would be like giving someone a gun without them being taught how to use it and expect them to be a Green Beret."

Crowley had to acknowledge the reasoning, "Fair enough, and the second point?"

Gabriel gave Crowley a devilish smile before stating, "I have to leave something for you to teach, don't I, Professor Crowley?"

Harry just looked at the demon sitting next to him, smirking, "He has a point, Dad."

"You choose NOW to jump on his bandwagon of crazy?... Fine, but you are gonna have to teach that as well: I am only so young, oh great and ancient Gabriel."

Gabriel just chuckled, "Now who's rubbing salt into open wounds? Common Crowly, give yourself some credit – I can't be as wicked as you."

"Suck-up. We can cross telekinesis off the list since we know Harry can already do that. All that's left is to simply train the muscle for heavier loads. Teleportation…," Crowly gave a cursory glance look at Harry, "Let's leave molecular deconstruction and reconstruction for after he is better acquainted with this body."

Now it was Hary's turn to be insulted, "Hey!"

Crowley pointed a pen at the boy, "The day you can go 24 hours without tripping over your feet is the day we even begin to DISCUSS the mechanics behind teleporting from one place to another."

Harry sighed in defeat, "Fine, Dad."

"All that is left is supernatural perception…"

Harry raised his hand, "Is that being able to see magic?"

Crowley just kept talking, "There's more to it than that, and it has levels but yeah…Wait, you can see magic, even now?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, ever since I woke up. At first, I thought it was just this house, with all the different lights and sigils, but when we got to town, I started to see more of it everywhere. It's all over the place…some people and venues have more than others, the different hues, the radiance of it all…"

Crowley looked at the angel, "Can you do that, cause I sure as hell can't."

Gabriel thought about, "Could be a benefit of his wizard heritage. That, or it could be his brain trying to process all the energies in the world as a form of synesthesia… Tell me, Harry, can you see some kind of orb in the center of my being?"

Harry quickly nodded, "No, but I can see one in Crowley which is red. I can see it in everyone. I actually had to turn it off in town because it was getting too bright. Can't really tell much about them – just the color. Not like in the air where I can see hues and shapes and… it's hard to describe."

"Oh, I know exactly what you are describing… Crowley, remember when I mentioned I can see the world to the smallest atom? If that is seeing reality on a micro scale, then Harry is doing something unique – he sees it on the macro level."

Crowly actually got afraid at that, "You mean he sees how everything is connected and involved? Isn't that GOD's domain?"

"Apparently not, or one of my brothers would have detected the intrusion by now. No, I can only assume that Harry is seeing the same thing Father did but via a different method – that, or he is riding along on the edge of the border of His vision, on the periphery."

Harry shakingly rose his hand again, "I can only assume that this is a bad time to mention that my eyes have a second level to them?"

Crowley nearly set the coach on fire at that – Harry quickly put out the embers. "Do you actually know you can do it or is it instinctual?"

"Seems like something I know, like how dogs know how to swim when put in water. Let me show you."

Harry closed his eyes and started to concentrate. The angel and the demon both felt his energies shift to his head and then his eyes.

When he opened them, they were no longer human. The iris – once a shade of green – was now a frightening shade of red, with the whites of the eye now black and the pupil white rather than black. It is an unnerving sight, especially on a child. They twitched and looked around like normal eyes – if a regular eyes underwent a dye job.

Gabriel just shivered, "That…is very unnerving to watch. It is like you Crowley – like when you demons show your real eyes. So what exactly can they do?"

Harry just looked around the room, which Crowley realized was unsettling because it reminded him so much of owls. He started to speak slowly, "It doesn't change much – makes things clearer, shadows less hinder some… I can see into weird spectrums, things that shouldn't be seen…But mainly, it lets me see the truth behind the truth…"

Crowley started to get worried. Harry began to sound as if he wasn't entirely present, "Harry, come back to us…"

Harry just kept going, swaying back and forth on the couch, "…I see souls for what they are. I can see their true shape, their shades… No one can lie in my presence, no one can hide anything from me…The lights are like clay, bendable and malleable…what beautiful lights they are… should I cross the streams?...oh look, there are no strings on me…" (4)

Gabriel started to remember hearing something similar in the past, until it dawned on him, "CROWLEY! KNOCK HIM OUT, RIGHT NOW! KNOCK HIM OUT BEFORE HE…"

It was too late.

Harry stared directly at Gabriel.

All they heard was Harry screaming, his hands covering his eyes.

He fell to the floor, spasming in pain.

All Crowley saw was Gabriel jump toward the boy and start healing him.

Crowley covered his eyes from the light coming of the angel. Gabriel was directly using his Grace to heal Harry.

All was quite in the library afterward.

Harry woke up, gasping for breath. Before he had a chance to react, Gabriel grabbed the boy and lifted him over his shoulders. "HARRY, YOU LISTEN TO ME AND LISTEN WELL! NEVER, EVER LOOK UPON ME WITH THOSE EYES!"

Crowley started to wave to the mad angel, "Gabriel, easy now…the boy couldn't have known."

Gabriel was near foaming at the mouth, but when he realized the image he was presenting to the terrified Harry, he calmed himself. He slowly lowered him back on the coach, adjust himself, and spoke calmly.

"Look, Harry… I am sorry for my outburst, but it was necessary to get the point across. An angel's being – their true appearance – is not something that should ever, EVER be seen by anyone. The thing is, no one should be able to do so unless we allow it. Your eyes, however, are the freaking exception to the one rule that can't be broken."

Harry started to sweat, "It just the energies of the world – how could that be against the rules?"

"No, no, no… your first level of sight doesn't violate anything. It is precisely as advertised: you see behind the vale, the souls of living beings, observing all the connections and gears that make the machine called 'life.' Your second level is basically you seeing the freaking code that makes the MACHINE work! No one – NO ONE IN EXISTENCE – can have that kind of access!

Crowley was lost now, "Hold up a minute, I really don't see the big deal here. So the kid sees the code – it's not like he has the power to manipulate it."

Gabriel was pacing again – it seems like it an awful habit he developed as of late – and he wasn't stopping, "THANK FATHER! I can honestly say with certainty that with the modifications we made, he will never gain the power to manipulate reality. But as of this moment, whenever those eyes are 'on,' he is basically Neo in the Matrix."

Harry thought about that for a second, actively accessing the new information in his head, "Wasn't Neo able to manipulate the Matrix after seeing the code?"

Gabriel nodded, "Yes, but it was more of a 'mind over matter' scenario. Remember how I said we angels are like very advanced machines? Yeah – there's a reason I said that the universe runs on code. To us upper tier angels, manipulating reality is basically running a pre-set program to change reality in an expected matter. We don't actually see the code being changed, we just use a program to do it. It's kind of like a blind study – we know the outcome, but we don't know what we are taking. You, however, Harry, see the code but you don't have the program at your disposal. THE ISSUE, however, is that an application can still be made if one can decipher the code…"

Harry started to panic, "Gabriel… That sounds suspiciously like God-Mode…" (3)

Crowley sat in silence, taking in everything the angel said, "Should I assume that the boy can't make such programs?"

"No. But with those eyes, Harry can basically fine tune magics and rituals to do the same thing."

Crowley was finally getting the analogy. "First level is like a magnifying glass but the second level is a microscope, right?"

"Close, but it fits the bill. On both levels, whenever Harry performs magic or a ritual, he will see its impact – its modification – to the world. With time and practice, he could start creating personal magics to do the same with less effort and with better results."

Harry had to ask, "So how does the second level come in?"

Gabriel shrugged, "Hard to say – I only know ONE BEING who was given limited access to it, and he was pretty tight lipped about it. I can only assume that you would eventually learn the 'true' rules of reality."

Crowley and Harry were giving Gabriel blank looks. "Think laws of physics but more comprehensive and wider applications…significantly larger applications…."

"Was it Uriel?"

Gabriel gave Harry a sharp look. He honestly expected Crowley to make the connection. "You put the Bible in here as well – one of the few books that you did… I know it word for word and he is barely mentioned. The only reason you do that if the individual isn't important enough to matter… or he chooses to stay out of the spotlight."

Gabriel nodded, "We Archangels were second in command right behind God, so we each had our tasks and duties. Uriel was the spymaster – the original Nick Fury as it were. Originally, he had access to the 'Sight' as it were, which he used to 'nudge' certain events, like a Domino Effect played on a galactic level. Claimed the 'Sight' let him see patterns and predict events. As he said, and I am quoting, 'All the strings that are around. All it takes is the pulling and cutting the right ones to make things happen the way I want.' It's why I knew what you had access to when you said what you said, Harry. It also confirms that you are a unique existence, one not bound to God's grand plan – YET. Things may settle down and he will make a role for you, but for now, we have to keep you locked away – unless Crowley wants to start World War III with you."

'You said 'initially' – what happened?"

"Humanity came along. Some angels were already annoyed that God claimed that you were his greatest creation and should be protected. I caught on quickly why he said that. My brothers – not so much. Free-will was not what Uriel wanted – he wanted everything to be under his control, under his manipulation."

A light bulb went off in Harry's head, "While there's significant backstory I am missing here, can I guess that Uriel basically tried to lock away humanity somewhere?"

Gabriel nodded, "Let's just say that the Garden of Eden was a better story alternative than for what actually happened. Basically, Uriel went too far – J. Edgar Hoover levels too far. He was abusing what limited access he had, so God took it away. Ever since then, Uriel has disdained humanity with a vengeance. If he ever found out that the Apocalypse was gonna happen, he would make sure that it would, out of spite. I may love my brothers, but Uriel is the only one I may actually kill if it needed to be done."

Harry just put up his hands, "Okay, okay, I got it, no using the God-Vision – EVER."

Crowley jumped in, "No, not using the God-Vision – YET. That is something truly unique and useful to you, especially with your voice."

Everything finally clicked, "Crap. Eyes to see the truth and a voice of compulsion. We did make Genesis – on some level at least. Okay, battle plan. Crowley, you go back to Hell and look anything about the magics and energies of the world, as well as anything regarding spells that override free-will."

Crowley got annoyed, "I hate it when you take charge, but I'll make the exception. I will be back as soon as…"

"No. You go away for a while – at least a few months, maybe even longer. There will be no magics for Harry."

Crowley and Harry both said in shock, "Why not?"

Gabriel just cracked his fingers, "Because until I beat humanity and appreciation of life into Harry's head – as well as into shape – there will be no magics or rituals for the boy. Gotta make sure he understands the powers he is messing with before he gets to play around with life and death."

Harry got real quiet. "Dad…Help…"

"Sorry kid, he has a point, and you are on your own. Till next time!"

Before Harry could stop him, Crowley teleported away.

Harry just started to sweat and shake while Gabriel just made an evil chuckle, "Oh, what fun we will have…"

Harry just backed away further into the couch, "Please, have mercy…"

Gabriel just laughed, "Mercy, what a fun concept! Let's see if I have any to spare…"

* * *

"So, let me get this straight… He is a two-hearted alien who travels around the universe in a time machine called a TARDIS which looks like a British phone booth? And he saves people with nothing but his wits, tenacity, and a sonic screwdriver? Just because he likes humanity?" (5)

Gabriel just shook his head, "You are overthinking it. Just sit back and enjoy the show. Pay attention to his speeches regarding mankind and the beauty of life. When we are caught up, we are gonna transition to 'Seinfeld,' then 'Friends,' then as much of 'Law and Order' and 'Criminal Minds' as we can – you gotta see the dark side of humanity as well. After that, we watch the 1987 and 2003 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.' Afterward, I don't know – I'll think of something. Probably make you read a few classics that I didn't put in your brain." (6)

"Why 'TMNT'?"

Gabriel just laughed, "Because they are funny and the fight scenes in 2003 are kind of awesome. Now be quiet, the Doctor is fighting the mind-controlling spiders." (7)

Harry just shrugged, leanedback into the couch, and continued eating the buttered popcorn.

* * *

 **(1) The movie came out on September 7, 2007, so it works.**

 **(2) This** is from **the song "The Power" by Snap. Everyone knows this song but not its name or artist. Thought you should know.**

 **(3) If you watched "The Matrix" or played any PC game you can mod, you know what I am talking about.**

 **(4) Couldn't help myself – Ultrom came to mind when I was writing that section.**

 **(5) Doctor Who, no more explanation needed.**

 **Fun fact though: Mark Sheppard – guy who plays Crowley – was on Doctor Who as Canton Everett Delaware III, who was Nixon's bodyguard. He was also a** pyromancer in **Episode 12 of Season 1 of "The X-Files." As a demon who can literally kill you with hellfire, I find that oddly foreshadowing.**

 **(6) Just a shout out to some of my favorite tv-shows.**

 **(7) The mind-controlling spiders did, in fact, appear on Doctor Who when Jon Pertwee was the Doctor, but they were** simply **referred to as Eight Legs.**


	7. What A Tangled Web the 4th Wall Makes

**Chapter 7: What A Tangled Web the 4th Wall Makes**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Hello everyone, Happy New Year!**

 **I wanted to post this sooner, but I had to do certain revisions since issues came up. Also, this seemed a good point to answer topics that keep coming up in the reviews and my communications with the reviewers.**

 **1\. Gabriel watching porn is completely within norm - just watch his earlier appearances in the "Supernatural" show.**

 **2\. Harry is not a Nephilim nor Cambion. The fusion that Gabriel made was just best guess estimate. It's why I used fractions to explain what he would be - hence why he doesn't have the powers that are expected from a Nephilim or Cambion.**

 **3\. The Genesis I referred to was from "Preacher," which was written by Garth Ennis and Steve Dilon - please Google to understand the reference.**

 **4\. I don't want to overpower Harry, which is why I specifically mentioned that he can't bend reality (nor visit alternate worlds). Him going to Heaven is still possible - kind of want to see him interact with Ash Harvelle.**

 **5\. God is not aware that Harry exists (hence the reference to strings).**

 **6\. For anyone who can tell, I have great difficulty writing in 3rd person (God Mode - ironically) and would be happy to transition to 1st person (just Harry). Unfortunately, since I am technically still in my Supernatural part of the story, I can't do that yet. Eventually, this story will be told just from Harry's perspective.**

 **7\. I sincerely regret writing at such a slow pace - I blame my OCD trying to make the chapters as information-dense as possible... I REGRET NOTHING! FOUNDATION IS NECESSARY!**

 **8\. To clarify - this is a Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover. I will eventually get to Hogwarts, just please remain patient. When I finish Season 1-5 for Supernatural, I will transition making this story Harry Potter-centric.**

 **9\. No matter how careful I am and no matter how good the 'Grammarly' system I use is (VERY HANDY), I will still make mistakes. Please, as my readers, inform me so that I may correct it for the benefit of others.**

 **10\. I am starting a poll to see if the readers prefer shorter chapters which are more periodic or longer chapters of decreased frequencies. Post in reviews or message me regarding your vote.**

* * *

 _April 7th, 2008_

Seven months.

Crowley hasn't seen Harry for seven months.

Granted, he has talked to him over the phone and texted Gabriel from time to time to see how they have been. He started to feel like some sort of airplane parent who was away for a year working elsewhere to support the family. Except he worked straight from of Hell.

The irony was not lost on him or anyone else.

With how aggressive Moose and Squirrel were in their search for answers, he had to do damage control and make sure Dean's contract would run out soon without interference. The Winchesters have been doing their best to get out of the deal – better than most anyway. They have come close a few times, but Crowley made sure that certain individuals got in their way.

Normally, the angel would be like an angst teen, writing with the damn emoticons and improper grammar as often as possible. Since the incident with the Winchesters in Springfield, Ohio last February and the time loop he put on Sam in Broward County, Florida a few months back, he started to become more…introverted. (1)

Gabriel was never truly involved in his role as a Trickster, but he made a few kills on-and-off to keep up appearances. Ever since he almost broke Sam Winchester, he stopped going out; focused more on Harry since then, so… positive there.

From what he could gather, Gabriel has been VERY involved in Harry's training. He's taken him everywhere for teaching – California, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Florida, New York, Ohio – and based on his stories, made a decent kill count. Nothing crazy; Gabriel made sure to stick to the basic monsters – vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, djinn, ghosts and the like. He did make a terrible mistake when they went to North Dakota and ran into a Wendigo. Since Gabriel was teaching Harry and had to keep his distance, a fight with a nearly unkillable speed demon almost didn't end well. (2)

Crowley was excited to find out, however, that the panic of the near death had caused Harry to awaken his abilities in pyrokinesis.

He shish-kebabed that aged withered husk of a woman.

Crowley was so happy to hear Harry's side of the story that he almost cried tears – in Hell – during a board meeting.

Thankfully, the feeling of paternal joy was quickly overridden by the sense of existential euphoria when he got the Colt.

The almighty Colt.

A modified Colt Paterson 1836 ball and cap gun that fired metallic cartridges with Psalm 23:4 inscribed on the barrel with a pentagram on the old handle.

" _I fear no evil"_ indeed.

How in the world Samuel Colt figured out how to make this thing – and its thirteen bullets – was beyond even the King of the Crossroads. If the tales were true, the bullets could kill anything in existence. Some debated that there should be something out there that the gun couldn't kill, but no one has ever been able to confirm it. With the newly minted bullets that were left from when Bela Talbot gave it to him – sorry, to him disguised as Lilith – to try to get out of her deal.

The Hellhounds enjoyed how she tasted – it's just so rare to get anyone to make a deal younger than twenty. (3)

Crowley knew that his cabin in Chicago was the perfect hiding place for the gun. Plus, he could ask Gabriel if the rumors regarding it were true.

It was a brisk 33 degrees when Crowley teleported to Massachusetts – it only got colder when he entered the cabin.

The cabin was the same. No mess, no odd smells, nothing out of the ordinary. Gabriel was on the couch watching something on the laptop – this was seeming oddly familiar. Gabriel wasn't even surprised when he saw Crowley.

Didn't even get a chance to say 'Hello' before the angel saw the gun.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Crowley gave a glance at the weapon in his hands, basking in the gloating that was to come. "Oh, this little thing? Yeah, it just a gun I happened to procure at my latest deal from a very desperate young thing. Such a shame she never got it in writing."

Gabriel could only whistle while waving his hand to get the weapon. Crowley quickly tossed it over – without the bullets of course.

"You really thought I was going to shoot you with the new bullets Bobby made with that demon chick? I thought you trusted me."

"One, I do trust you – I just didn't bother refilling the chamber yet. Two, how did you know about the bullets? And three, where's Harry?"

Gabriel was turning the gun over and over his hands, looking down into the barrel, "You know, we Archangels never really bothered checking on humans much, with Prophets being the obvious exceptions. But every few decades some would catch our attention. I personally favored Da Vinci and Tesla, but Samuel Colt was found by Michael entirely by accident. You see, Michael sensed the death of one of the last Phoenix's back in 1861 in Sunrise, Wyoming – what Michael was doing there was beyond me. So, he plopped down there and found out that this mortal made a gun that could kill anything. He approved of its purpose, so he didn't really bother asking too many questions, like what happened to the ashes of the Phoenix or how the gun was made. He did, however, find out that Colt had help making the gun and that the stranger didn't give him a name. He also figured out that such a powerful weapon had a significant weakness…" (4)

Crowley caught the implication, "So the rumors that it can't kill certain beings are true."

The angel nodded, "Undoubtedly. It was a man-made weapon, so no matter what magic's were used, it is still limited in power. Could probably count on one hand the things it can't kill. Definitely include God, Death, Eve – although she can be killed by Phoenix Ash – maybe even us Archangels."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at that, "Even Lucifer?"

Gabriel was fidgeting the gun in one hand, spinning the open chamber, "Honestly couldn't tell you. He is my brother, but also a fallen angel. With the amount of demonic energies that have bathed him over the millennia, it possible – I wouldn't test it, though."

Crowley asked for the gun back from the angel "I'll put it in the safe up in the study until it is needed. You still haven't answered my question."

Gabriel closed his laptop as he started getting up from the couch, "What question?"

"WHERE. IS. HARRY?"

Gabriel tried his best not to panic chuckle.

He failed.

Crowley put his head into his arms, "You broke him again didn't you?"

"NO, NOT THIS TIME!" Gabriel quickly got off the couch in terror.

Crowley only sat on the sofa and crossed his legs, "So…tell me then, what happened?"

Crowley expected that Gabriel screwed up worse than Harry's previous excursion to Las Vegas. He expected Gabriel – an angel – to get on his knees and plead for mercy from him – a demon.

This was not one of those situations.

"He is having an existential crisis."

Crowley looked up at Gabriel, only confusion was on his face.

Gabriel just sighed and went to get a book of the cabinet in the corner. He tossed it toward Crowley, who noted the name, "' _Supernatural'_ by Carver Edlund…These guys look like…wait…"

Crowley got bug-eyed, looked at Gabriel, who nodded, indicating that the demon was correct.

Gabriel, during the demon's moment of clarity, got both of them a bottle of scotch and a pair of glasses.

Both drank their servings in one shot.

Gabriel poured both of them a second shot, "There is a backstory here to make sense of the events that led to this."

Crowley just laughed as he put down the book, "There better be some insane amount of events that led from this to whatever Harry is doing?"

Gabriel pointed up, "He is in his room upstairs – he is actually making a spectacle out of it."

Crowley nodded, "So what is the story?"

Gabriel just swirled the scotch in his cup, "Happened during one of our training trips. The boy caught wind of what Hunters are, we got to talking, and I told him about my run-in with the Winchesters. I must have been very descriptive regarding how they looked because a few weeks later he found that book in some second-hand shop in Kentucky. He managed to track down the writer – whose real name is Chuck Shurley – through some… methods I would rather not think too closely about…"

"He got better with the voice and eyes, didn't he?'

Gabriel nodded at Crowley's deduction, "He is currently on hypnosis-level strength, but he is getting there."

"Hypnosis?"

"Requires subject to be weak-willed and done at the right moment – same as hypnosis." (5)

Crowley nodded, "Go on."

"Basically, he tracked him down to some part of Virginia, found his house, and instead found the Prophet of the Lord."

Crowley did a spit-take. Gabriel poured him another shot.

"You should know that I wasn't with him and that he told me because he saw him through his Sight. Didn't even bother talking to the guy. Just saw him stumble out of the house drunk to get the mail – nearly blinded himself."

"How…What…How did you not know where or who the Prophets are? Aren't you supposed to know these things?"

Gabriel took another sip of his scotch, "Angels get the names of all the prophets written into their brains, but that was implemented long after the Archangels were made. I've been out of the loop too long anyway. But after he described all the signs – which I won't tell you – and I confirmed it, he kind of… got a little loopy."

Crowly just breathed out, "How loopy?"

Gabriel finished his third glass, "Over the few months, I've been using television, books, and music to teach Harry about humanity. Been using the same logic to teach Harry to justify each of his kills and use of magic – yes, he figured out magic, we will discuss this later – to build him up morally. If he can't validate his actions, he has no right to do them – think of it as arguing both sides of an issue. In actuality, I've been just making him Genre Savvy. To beat you to the punch, a genre-savvy character doesn't necessarily know what story is taking place, but they know from similar stories and events what worked and what didn't. "

Crowley just got more confused, "Just… why?"

"Because when you have been around as long as I have, you start to see the outcomes before they even happen because it's the same pattern over and over again. I want Harry to have the same advantage. Unfortunately, since I can't shove millennium upon millennium of experience down his throat, television and literature were a better alternative. Just imagine it – being able to know when a plan will fail just because one has seen it a dozen of times in a show. To be able to gauge an individual based on their tropes and actions. To be that snarky kid in the corner, looking upon the main characters, holding a lampshade over their ignorance of the situation and hold the power of foresight upon them! To take advantage of the tropes presented and not be the black character killed off in a horror movie!"

"Gabriel, you're starting to shout," Crowley had a panicked look as he stared at the angel currently standing on the couch, "but I see where you are going with this. That still doesn't explain what happened."

"I blame metaphysics and giving Harry the works of Kant, Moliere, and Diderot to read. The sight of an individual documenting and selling the life of two people like a God made something bend in Harry's mind. Combine that with what I have been trying to teach him through entertainment, and it stretched his mind to the limit. It didn't help when he found the 'Evil Overlord List" online and is now studying it." (6)

Crowley couldn't help but snicker, "There is an actual list of thing do as an evil overlord?"

"Nope – it's a list of cliché blunders of super villains to avoid. Harry decided to go into the family business, so he figured he better be prepared rather than uninformed."

Crowley was now just trying not to laugh, "Seriously? Give me one."

Gabriel took a sheet out of his pocket, took put a pair of reading glasses and coughed for comic effect, "The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness."

"That an actual rule? That's just common sense – you never leave your weakness for others to find."

Gabriel looked up from the list, "What about the bones of your human body?"

"Anonymity is the best secrecy there is – no one knows my human name, only the era and location of my death. Unless someone manages to slip up, they will never burn my bones."

The angel shrugged, "Seems like tempting fate but alright. Here's another one: 'I will dress in bright and cheery colors, and so throw my enemies into confusion.'"

"Seems a bit redundant – the heroes always expect the unexpected from the villain."

Gabriel was just exasperated at this, "Fair point. 'I will not grow a goatee. In the old days, they made you look diabolic. Now they just make you look like a disaffected member of Generation X.'"

Crowley sat quietly for a moment, while Gabriel glared at the demon before him, pouring him another shot.

"I'll just grow a beard then…"

Gabriel maniacally cackled, "YOU WANTED TO GROW A GOATEE, DIDN'T YOU? You were gonna be a victim of the most cliché of villain stereotypes!"

Crowley got a somewhat freaked look on his face, "SHUT UP, GABRIEL! Give me that list, I want to see it!"

Gabriel swiftly put it away from the demon's reach, "Later. Let me show what's going on with Harry."

Both adults went up to the second floor to Harry's room. There wasn't any noise coming from the room – only a weird sigil Crowley didn't recognize painted on the door.

Gabriel noted Crowly's confusion, "Something the kid gobbled up to soundproof the room."

"Gobbled up?"

"Sorry, is that not grammatically correct? 'Made it' seems too heavy-handed and 'created' implies that he had nothing to work with. I initially put up an African tribal mark that was used by their hunters for stealth, but he added stuff to it. Probably saw what it did with his Sight and modified it." (7)

Crowley started examining it, "That looks like Enochian, maybe some Chinese characters in the corner…is that an equation in the center?"

Gabriel nodded, "Yeah, he lost me there as well, but he sees the code, and we don't. Rather not mess with it if I were you – it already bothers the hell out of me."

Crowley just got more mixed up, "Why?"

"My senses keep telling me it is something seriously… foreign."

"Not 'wrong'? Why 'foreign'?"

"It's not something from outside our universe. It just feels like it was salvaged from spare parts and built it into some infernal machine."

"There's that Frankenstein analogy again…" Crowley couldn't help but note how this kept coming up, "Seems like we fell victims to some trope a well."

"Don't bring it up around Harry - he's getting crazy enough as it is."

Gabriel put his hand on the door handle and was about to open the door, "Oh, I should also mention that Harry somehow figured out how to make the inside of his room bigger than the outside dimensions…"

Now Crowly was finally annoyed, "You made him watch 'Doctor Who,' didn't you?"

Gabriel nodded, "I made him watch 'Doctor Who'"

"Did he prefer Tom Baker?"

Gabriel shook his head side-to-side, "He likes David Tennant more… Peter Davison is in second place."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, "Really? Tenth I can understand, but fifth over fourth?"

"Hey, don't judge – you always cheered for the Master."

"I still can't believe you made me watch the show…"

"You loved every moment of it. Now, let us enter Harry's Sanctum Santorum."

Crowley did not expect what he saw in the kid's room. Sure, he expected some sort of mess, maybe some stuff lying around, some gunk stuck to the ceiling.

He did not anticipate all the pictures, articles, and multicolored strings connecting everything together.

He didn't believe that they were in a white cube. He also didn't expect the room to now be bigger than the cabin the room was in – what were they in, a tesseract?

But there he was, standing on some floating pedestal, checking a laptop, taking out different strings, connecting things back and forth across the walls in the room. Even the walls that were just levitating in the air.

He took a look down – yes, down, since the entry to the room was in the middle of the wall – onto the floor, which was covered in so many different runes and diagrams that managed to stretch against the other walls and the ceiling.

Gabriel just gave Crowley a chuckle at his panic, "Yeah, almost fell in like Wile E. Coyote the first time. Very 'Rainman' isn't it?"

Crowley was just flabbergasted by it all, "I thought you didn't teach him any magic? What's all of this then?"

"Idiot savant."

"Idiot what now?"

Gabriel called up two flying pedestals so that they could use them, "Just step on them and think where to go. So anyway… he is like an artist painting with no foundation and stumbling onto masterpieces. I would like to say that his Sight does all the work, but that stopped being the case a long time ago. I didn't teach him anything – no book, no monologs, no slip-ups – but he apparently managed to get enough from the stuff they sell in the occult section of Barnes & Nobles. I did, however, need to teach him how to manipulate energies for pyrokinesis."

Crowley just couldn't believe any of this, "That's it?"

Gabriel nodded, "Yep. From that little foundation, he managed to figure all of this out. Like Srinivasa Ramanujan, he had no formal training yet managed to discover everything that took centuries for others. This will definitely come back to bite him in the ass when he starts learning the actual laws, but it nice to see him play by no one's rules. He is officially a Cloudcuckoolander. Trust me, I asked him to explain how he made the magic for this room. All he did was look around, and told me that the bending of the numbers seemed obvious."

Crowly was doing his best not to open his jaw in shock-and-awe.

Crowley took another look at some of the pictures hanging on the walls. Hannibal Lecter, Dexter Morgan, Darth Vader, Grand Admiral Thrawn, Professor Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Jean-Loup Verdier, Gentleman Johnnie Marcone, Troy Phelan, Garak… (8) he was covering a broad spectrum of characters, some he didn't even know.

Gabriel and Crowley were doing their best to make sure not to rip any of the yarn hanging in the air, but it was difficult at best. Harry somehow just managed to fly around without any issue, pulling a rainbow variety of strings from one wall to another.

"In case you are wondering, he is psychoanalyzing and trope-defining every villain and hero character under the sun. You fall under Noble Demon, by the way."

Crowley wasn't actually hearing Gabriel as he finally got a good look at Harry after all the months.

Not much actually changed physically. He got a tan now, so him wearing a tee-shirt and sports pants actually worked. His hair was longer, he was leaner, hands were covered in calluses, the glasses were new… He looked more like some Ph.D. candidate turned kid than an escaped patient from a mental asylum.

"The glasses aren't prescription – he wears them so that using his Sight doesn't tax him after long periods."

"Anything else I should know?"

At this point, Harry finally noticed the adults in the room, "Hey, Uncle Gabe. Hey, Dad. You're finally back. Are you prepared for your promotion in May?"

This caught Gabriel and Crowley off-guard. Crowley was already King of the Crossroads; the only position higher was…

"Harry, what promotion? The only thing I have coming up is that Dean Winchester's contract is due on May 2nd?"

Harry twitched a little before chuckling, "No, no, not this May. Maybe two years from now you'll be promoted – after Lilith dies and Lucifer get locked-up. Have to break the seals first, though, don't know how long that will take. All I know is that it will happen in May."

Crowly just looked at Gabriel, "Like I said, he's a little loopy."

Harry was just connecting more lines as he mumbled, "The first Seal breaks when the first righteous man sheds blood in Hell…And it is written, that the first demon shall be the last Seal… Has to be the raising of Death, extinction events, blindness, maybe killing of Reapers as well…have to introduce the Horsemen somehow…" (9)

Gabriel finally caught on what Harry was implying, but Crowley asked, "Is he…is he a freaking PROPHET?"

Gabriel just started to sweat and chuckle, "No, just very well informed and researched. He is talking about the 66 Seals for Lucifer's Cage."

"Weren't there over 600 locks?" All demons were aware of the cage, but no one has actually been able to open it.

"Wait, a year to date from the opening of the gate and a righteous man… SON OF A… That bitch is playing me!"

Gabriel only stared at Crowley while Harry answered, "You didn't have to sleep with Lilith. Also, get ready for the boys to find out about you after Lilith dies – they are gonna need the Colt to kill Lucifer."

Both adults said in unison, "Lucifer is going to be released?"

"Yeah, should be obvious now. The angels are indirectly gonna help Lilith start Armageddon since Uriel is gonna be in charge. Some angel is going rebel and help the Winchesters stop it, though – don't know who, though… my money is for the angel of Thursday for some reason." (10)

Gabriel finally jumped in, "Why would an angel gonna go against the will of Heaven?"

Harry closed his laptop in confusion, "To introduce a new character, expand the universe, and plot development, of course."

Crowley finally caught on, "This isn't a story Harry – the Winchesters aren't some main characters in a television soap opera."

Harry just looked at Crowly wide-eyed before he started to laugh out loud. "Well, of course not! That would mean everything I am doing here would be breaking the 4th wall, and that this – where we are - isn't reality. I am just taking a guess here based on what I can gather. What do you think I am – crazy? Besides, if anything, the Winchesters would be a show on the CW. Besides, all this trope nonsense is more of a momentary intrest of knowledge then an obscession. I'll grow out of ti eventually."

"You had me fooled for the last few weeks," Gabriel stated as he was wiping off his sweat, "but you may be on to something… Dean would be the breaking of the first seal."

"You mean Squirrel? How in the hell is he a righteous man?" Crowley had his intel on Dean. He was an emotionally stunted, womanizing, alcoholic, killer. To justify him as a righteous man…

"As written by Albertus Magnus: 'He was a righteous man. Heaven has blessed him with clarity of vision in matters of good and evil. His judgment was absolute. His compassion was without boundaries, his mercy was divine mercy, and his anger was the wrath of God.' Rather appropriate for Michael's perfect vessel."

Crowley and Gabriel said in unison again, "Wait, WHAT?"

"It makes sense if you think about it. The parallels between Dean and Sam is the same as with Cain and Able as well as Michael and Lucifer: The older brother following father's orders while the younger chooses to rebel. Their father was probably a descended of Cain anyway…"

Gabriel was sweating again, "Why did I leave the scotch downstairs… I expected you to tell Crowley how you classified villains under new categories, not about THE FREAKIGN END OF THE WORLD!"

Harry just started taking off his glasses, "Oh, this? I am finishing with this – give me three more weeks. You can start teaching magic afterward, Dad. And besides, Lucifer only wins if we do nothing."

This caught Crowley off-guard – for hopefully the last time, "Wait, are you saying you want me to end the deal, so Dean will live?"

"No, Dean has to go to hell and Lilith has to die and Lucifer has to be released. The strings… the strings say that they must happen – fixed points and all… IT'S THE DETAILS THAT MATTER!," Harry was clinching and pulling the adults out of the room towards the door, "At some point, Dean will be released from Hell by an angel who will help them after he brakes the 1st seal. Then Azazel's modification for Sam will star to kick in…"

"Modifications?"

"Yeah, you know, the whole demon blood thing? You're gonna have to find someone to watch over Sam after Dean dies – if he is like his family, he'll probably star drinking."

"Why demon blood?"

"Because no vessel can contain Lucifer if it isn't fortified by demon blood, even if it is his perfect vessel – don't interrupt. Gabriel, at some point you are going have to give them some shpiel about 'the roles they were born to play.' Use my argument if you want – just add some pizzaz! You already set the foundation by making Sam repeatedly watch Dean die in that 'Mystery Spot' place in Florida. You have a foot in the door in screwing with them." Harry waved his hands flamboyantly for emphasis as he let the adults out of his room, taking the pedestals with him.

Gabriel was catching on to what Harry was doing, "And then what – are they gonna end the Apocalypse?"

"Don't know how that ends. Probably end up killing Sam since he is gonna lock himself in Lucifer's Cage. Don't really know what happens after that – seems like one of those big final episodes of the series. Dean will probably stop being a Hunter – he'll settle down, start a family."

Now Crowley finally latched on, "Ah, now I get it. If we play our cards right, Gabriel and I win without lifting a finger."

Harry raised a finger, "Uncle Gabe wins – in the long run, he is still going to be in hiding, but you are going be the poster boy for Hell. Better find a backup plan for controlling the kids if you want your hide to be safe. Try doing it through their father figure – Bobby, right? – and you are secure, Dad. Now, while I enjoyed our talk, I have to finish my project. In the words of Bobby Singer, 'Leave me alone, you idjits.' Love you guys!"

Harry closed the door at that. There would have been a loud slamming sound, but the sigil took care of that. Gabriel and Crowley were both confused – enlightened, but confused.

Crowley leaned over to the angel, "Have you tried giving him something to mellow him out?"

Gabriel just poured himself another glass of scotch – how did he get it so fast? – and just sighed, "He's too young for weed, and his metabolism will get rid of conventional medicine too quickly. I say just let him be – he will be done in three weeks. As long as he leaves the room to eat, I say enjoy the silence and peace. It's not like he is planning to go anywhere."

Both Crowley and Gabriel started going downstairs when the demon remembered his previous inquiry, "I thought you would get him some stuff to personalize his room."

"That wasn't his room. He 'acquired' the other three rooms as part of his bedroom set. One has weapons, one has books, and one is everything else."

"Where's his bed?"

"In the weapons room."

"Good man – has his priorities straight."

Both sat on the couch again before Gabriel asked, "More scotch?"

Crowley held up his glass, "Make it a double."

* * *

 _May 2nd, 2008_

"You said he would be finished in three weeks. It's been four."

Gabriel just shrugged as he was preparing the meats on the patio. It was a happy occasion for Crowley. Everything went exactly as Harry 'predicted' and with Dean in Hell, it was now just a matter of waiting.

Gabriel was wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' hat, but Crowley wasn't biting, "So did you check the cage? Are the seals broken yet?"

"I checked. It's got security around it who work for Lilith and Lucifer is clearly restless. I gotta say, I don't know how Harry saw this coming, but we will have to start getting proactive soon…"

Harry burst out of the cabin as Crowley was speaking, "FINISHED! And leave Moose alone! Uncle Gabe, did you use the honey sauce? GIVE ME THE RIBS!" Harry raised his fist in the air for emphasis.

Crowley at least noticed that Harry was considerate enough to wash up and put on something new since he last saw him. He got a distinct impression last time that hygiene wasn't his biggest priority.

Gabriel was apparently used to this kind of dramatic behavior, "Medium or rare?"

Harry took off his glasses like some t.v detective before saying, "You have to ask?"

Gabriel just smiled and nodded while Harry went up to Crowley who was still in his suit, "Really Dad? We are outside on a patio with Uncle Gabe and me dressed for the occasion, and you are in a suit?"

"I am a demon. Demons don't do shorts. I am not some dandy," deadpanned Crowley.

"Could have fooled me, Dad. But seriously, leave Dean as is for like, the next three months."

Crowley already set up a torture schedule and place just for Dean, "Why three months?"

Harry gave his Dad 'the look' again, "Because three is a magic number and how long it will take Squirrel to finally snap. Make sure to put Alastair as his torturer."

'How did you even…Never mind, I should expect no less from you at this point - have to get someone else to torute the Dursley's though. I found a demon to watch over Sam by the name of Ruby. He's already started to try to make deals with some of my workers, but no one is buying."

Harry nodded as he sat down in a patio chair, "Enjoy these few months while you can. Ones the angels come, all hell will break loose, and the worker bees will start to panic. Best time to learn magic, no?"

Gabriel was gathering his meat at that comment, "You sure know how to pick your moments, don't you Harry?"

"I blame you for that, Uncle Gabe."

Crowley hastily laughed, "He got you there. And yes – we will start our lessons tomorrow. You want to start on rituals or just jump straight to spell slinging?"

Harry looked at his ribs, "Let's start nice and easy with pyrokinesis."

"I thought you would want to learn teleportation…"

"Already did. Gabriel did it to me so many times to me that I figured it out on my own."

Crowly nodded, "Makes things easier. Wanna practice your range?"

Harry made a small fireball to char his ribs while looking at Gabriel, "Medium-rare. It was a trick question. And yes, let's practice – I only have a range of about Idaho."

"That is.. a very particular distance. You actually measured?"

Harry nodded as he was biting into his ribs.

Gabriel was sipping his lemonade, "I'll teach him some stuff afterward when you damage control, Crowley. He's already got the hang of most guns and hand-held weapons. He's frighteningly good as a sniper."

Crowley was eating his chicken with a fork and a knife, "Why do I need a sniper for? I just snap my fingers to kill someone."

Gabriel and Harry both gave Crowley the evil eye. "I am sorry. Harry, it is very impressive that you turned yourself into a professional killer."

Harry finished his ribs smiling, "Thank you, Dad – I aim to please. Now, taking an educated guess, Sam should be at his lowest at some point in June, so make sure Ruby introduces herself then. In July, Dean will finally break the seal and Sam will most likely make some crazy scheme to kill Lilith or die trying. So by mid-September, the angels will finally go Lazarus on us and raise Dean."

Crowley just couldn't follow Harry's logic, but he hasn't been wrong so far, "Will do."

Gabriel jumped in, "At what point did we start taking advice from an eight-year-old…"

"Seven years old – almost eight."

"Sorry. When did we start taking advice from a seven-year-old?"

Harry laughed as he finished his lemonade, "The minute you realized I was Neo."

Everyone nodded as they clanked their glasses together, "To Harry!"

* * *

 _September 18th, 2008_

Gabriel came up to Crowley's study. The demon was currently writing up some future lesson plan for Harry.

The kid was voracious for knowledge – Gabriel was seriously considering seeing if he could perform chronokinesis.

"Hey Crowley, have you seen Harry? He wasn't in any of his bedrooms nor his Room of Weird."

"Said he needed to go Pontiac, Illinois."

"Why?"

"Said he needed to set up some marker and stuff for some event. I blame the…"

At this point, Harry ported into the study, "It's time, Dad."

The adults in the room were confused. They should have been used to this by now, but Harry always managed to surprise them.

Gabriel was first to ask, 'What did you do?"

"I placed a magic marker on Dean's grave. Any moment now, Crowley should be getting the call that…"

And the music of ABBA permeated the air.

Crowley checked the caller on his cell.

"…that Dean was lifted out of Hell."

* * *

 **POST-NOTE**

 **People will read this chapter and wonder why I did what I did with Harry. For anyone who has ever read stories on this site, you would notice that** stories where the main character time travels into his/her younger body **are the most popular - I don't want to do that. Making the character a frequent visitor of 'TvTropes' seemed like a much funnier alternative. For anyone who didn't get Gabriel's reference, look up the "Boy Meets World" episode called** '"And **Then There Was Shawn" (Season 5 Episode 17) or search 'Shawn is good at Horror movies' on Youtube. It the best example of what he was talking about.**

* * *

 **(1) Season 3, Episode 11, "Mystery Spot"**

 **(2) Call-back to Season 1, Episode 2, 'Wendigo"**

 **(3) Season 3, Episode 15, "Time Is On My Side."**

 **(4) Season 6, Episode 18, "Frontierland." Samuel Colt gathered the ashes for the team to help them kill Eve since they traveled back in time for them, but Dean gets pulled back before he could grab them. Basically, the show pulled a "Back to the Future II."**

 **(5) This is true: while people do have various degrees of susceptibility to being hypnotized, there are ways to 'get through the firewall' via a cracks or backdoors as it were. The human mind is actually very susceptible to suggestion and there are tricks that utilize its loopholes to get in.**

 **This isn't some throwaway gag or anything. This is more to clarify that there is technically no such thing as immunity to hypnotism.**

 **(6) This is an actual thing and is hilarious to read if you are bored. This will be called back in the future when Harry finds out about Voldemort and his** horcruxes **.**

 **(7) I actually got the idea to describe it like this from Episode 16, Season 5, "Dark Side of the Moon", when Ash uses a practical application of string theory to get to other people's Heaven's. His scrawls do look like numbers and letters so I just extended it.**

 **(8) Yeah, I went crazy here.**

 **Hannibal Lecter – "Hannibal" and "Silence of the Lambs"**

 **Dexter Morgan – "Dexter"**

 **Darth Vader & Grand Admiral Thrawn – "Star Wars"**

 **Professor Moriarty & Sherlock Holmes – do I even need to explain?**

 **Jean-Loup Verdier – "I Kill" by Giorgio Faletti (read it and you will love it)**

 **Gentleman Johnnie Marcone – "Dresden Files"**

 **Troy Phelan – "The Testament" by John Grisham**

 **Garak – "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine"**

 **(9) Revealed in Season 4, Episode 16, "On The Head Of A Pin"**

 **(10) Castiel is considered the Angel of Thursday, I kid you not.**

 **September 18th, 2008 – Season 4, Episode 1, "Lazarus Rising"**


	8. Let's Check on the Winchesters

**Chapter 8: Let's Check on the Winchesters**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Please remember to be involved in the pole regarding the length of chapters.**

 **Enjoy and review.**

* * *

 _October 10th, 2008_

"Hey Bobby, you find anything new on these seals?"

It's been almost a month since Dean returned from Hell. It's been non-stop Hunting since then, but finally, a calm has finally fallen upon their little abode in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

While Sam and Bobby were going through tomes and ancient books, Dean was just smiling and eating pie on the couch.

Sam sighed in exhaustion, "You know, you could come and help us out instead of eating apple pie."

Dean pointed his spoon at his sibling, "Hey… its cherry pie. I've spent four months in Hell, and I have some catching up to do. Besides, you know how I feel about books. And you know how Bobby feels about food being anywhere around his books."

"I don't 'feel' anything about food near my books, you idjits. It's just that these books are one-of-kind… and I hate cleaning up after you boys."

Dean just smirked, "Ah, you know you would be lonely without us, you old coot."

"Whatever. Now, from what I can gather, there are 666 seals to Lucifer's Cage. All that Lilith needs to do is break 66 of them."

Sam added, "Means she has a lot of options. Also, there seems to be no order to them, no specifications, nothing to help us out. They don't even say what the first, last, or middle seals are supposed to be! We have to find a bunch of needles in a haystack of similar needles. We have no starting point and the whole of America to work with."

Dean just took another bite of pie before smugly stating, "Can't we just ask the angels? We do have Castiel in our corner of the ring."

"Dean, we know nothing about the guy besides the fact he raised you from Hell. Angels haven't been seen in over a millennium for a reason."

"Look, Sam. I know that, you know that, and Bobby knows that. Do we have other options besides going through more books?"

Bobby gave a cursory look at all the stacks of books that they haven't gotten to yet, "Doesn't hurt to ask."

Sam looked at Bobby incredulously, but the old man just shrugged, "Do _you_ want to keep reading these books?"

Dean smiled. He finished his pie, closed his eyes, and started praying. "Hello? Anyone there? It's me, Dean Winchester. The guy you pulled out of Hell. Kind of hoping you can fill in some blanks we have about the seals to Lucifer's Cage and all. I don't know, could you send in Castiel to tell us about it…"

Both Bobby and Sam gave Dean an odd look, "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

Dean turned to look before he was startled out of his seat, "Dammit, Cass! Stop doing that!"

"It was not my intention to frighten you." Castiel's human vessel was completely average. Simple dress shoes, black suit, button white-striped dress shirt, loosened blue necktie accentuated by a beige trench coat. He was like some reverse-version of John Constantine, "Why have you called me?"

"We are trying to figure out which seals is Lilith going to break next, but we can't find anything about the pattern to them." Sam said this carefully since he still didn't trust the emotionless angel, so he didn't want to give away too much.

"There is no pattern. All that matters is that 66 of them are broken. Even we angels don't know what her endgame is."

Dean looked back up from the pie he resumed eating, "So how many they broke so far?"

"From what we can gather, they just broke the 2nd seal."

Bobby was shocked by this, "Already?"

"Indeed. It was not a difficult one, but the ease is unnatural. We can assume that the demons have been planning this for some time but…"

Sam perked up, "But what?"

Castiel got a worried look on his face – as worried as he could get for an angel – before stating, "Most of the seals deal with the corruption of the natural order. As such, to go against such order requires months, even years of preparation. Yet, we hear whispers of demons in place ready to break their seals when they get the call."

Sam closed the book he was going through, "It makes sense if you think about it: there must be some seal coming up that is a prerequisite for many future ones."

"Yes. The problem is that we can't determine which seal it will be. The 'Rising of the Witnesses' was already one of the major seals that could be broken – there is nothing else that comes to mind to the higher ups that could be broken next."

Dean nodded, "Why can't we just wait then?"

Everyone in the room looked at Dean in confusion. Dean looked confused back at them, "Well… it makes sense. If you can't figure out your opponent's strategy, shouldn't you just let him make a few more moves, like in chess? It's risky, sure, but do we have a better option?"

Castiel looked down, thinking it through, "While I am unfamiliar with this 'chess' you speak of, your strategy is correct. We can't risk giving them too much; we are at war. And like in any war, no one side can gain the advantage."

Bobby picked up on the subtext, "Sounds like you believe that are more than two parties involved in this fight."

"Unlikely but…"

Dean put away his pie again, "But?"

"Dean, do you know why we didn't raise you sooner?"

Dean just shrugged, "I just assumed that it was all part of some grand plan with the boys upstairs." He said it while pointing in the necessary direction.

Castiel nodded, "You are partially correct. While pulling you of Hell is indeed difficult, we could have done it sooner, but we had…difficulty…locating where you were buried." The angel was clearly embarrassed at this reveal.

Sam looked at the angel like he grew a second head, which was actually possible for their true visages, "You couldn't find where he was buried? We didn't even do anything to his casket – no wards, no iron, and no spell work of any kind. You couldn't just, I don't know, ASK US?"

Bobby nodded, "Even I would have agreed to the resurrection – and that's saying something."

"We were not allowed to do so," Castiel had to tread carefully in this conversation, "so as you can imagine, there was some difficulty – until we got a signal."

"What signal?" Both Winchesters said this in unison – a rare sight.

"A marker was placed on the grounds of your grave. With it, we were finally able to locate you and pull you out. You were not aware of it since it was burned away by your rising."

At this Dean quickly got out of his chair, "And no one thought this was suspicious? What, did you guys not look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"We had no choice. As you might put it, an opportunity presented itself."

"Wait a second. Did your angel friends also set up the supplies and the car?"

"No Dean. My… friends… had nothing to do with your mode of transportation. We just assumed…"

"YOU ASSUMED?" Dean had slammed his hands upon the table at this point, "That's it. We are now working under the assumption that there is a 3rd party involved in this little war that neither the angels nor demons are aware of."

"Dean," interrupted Bobby, "you realize you are implying that someone out there managed to force the two strongest forces in the universe to start the Apocalypse early?"

"Not necessarily Bobby," Sam jumped in, "it is much easier to work under the assumption that someone is merely using the animosity that already exists between the two sides. Starting the Armageddon was probably just some necessary stepping point. We can also assume that the 3rd party may actually be a force working within the demon army."

"How come?"

Sam just looked back at Dean, "You think there is an enemy group within the angel force?"

"Fair point."

"Without a doubt, Sam," interrupted a pondering Castiel, "it is unlikely that there is a faction of angels in Heaven who wish for the release of Lucifer from his cage. It is, however, plausible that there is a scion of demons who are playing both sides. But…"

"But? Why is there a 'but'? Why is there a 'but' Sam?"

"Dean, stop saying 'but.' Go on Castiel."

The angel nodded, "While demons may have access to the resources to play both sides, they couldn't place the marker that was on the grave. Only a human that wasn't possessed could have placed it. That… or an angel."

All the humans in the room looked at the angel speaking, looked at each other, and stated in unison, "It was a human."

"Indeed, an angel and a demon working together to start an Apocalypse is very unlikely."

Dean looked at the angel, "Don't you mean impossible?"

"'Impossible' implies that there is absolutely no chance of such event occurring. 'Unlikely' leaves a minuscule chance of such a possibility occurring. I am not ignorant enough to assume that an angel – fallen or not – couldn't possibly work with some high ranking demon."

Sam just looked at Castiel, "That… is terrifying in its implication. I guess all we can do is play it safe."

Castiel nodded, "Should we keep this theory to ourselves?"

Dean agreed, "Better safe than sorry. Just keep us informed if something else comes up."

"Indeed." Castiel teleported away after that.

Dean clapped his hands smiling, "So… who wants apple pie?"

* * *

 _December 6th, 2008 (1)  
_

"34 SEALS ARE BROKEN? HOW?" shouted Bobby.

Dean and Sam have just returned to Bobby from Sioux City, Iowa. They came back from Magic City, USA, having killed a rogue 'magician,' so they were flying high. That was until Ruby told them how far along Lilith's forces were in freeing Lucifer.

When they returned, Castiel was already waiting for them, discussing something with the old man. What started out as a friendly discussion went straight to hell – poor choice of words – when Bobby started interrogating the angel.

"Shouting is not necessary. Even we were not aware how far along they have progressed in a month."

"A MONTH? It's been nearly two since we last had this discussion."

"You are partially correct Sam. But I can only assume they had made all this progress since Halloween when you killed Samhain."

Dean got confused, "Samhain? What does he have…"

"He was the third seal," interrupted the angel, "and best we can tell, the trigger for this sudden influx of seal being broken."

Everyone in Bobby's house became solemn. This was not the outcome they expected from the passivity they had taken. Now was no longer the time for inaction.

"So now what? We let them show their hand – it's time to show ours. You angel boys have 34 seals to work with now. You should be able to know what they are gonna do now."

"Indeed Dean. The seals they have chosen, while easy to accomplish, have severely limited their future options. While some will be impossible to stop due to the availability of people in the world, some can definitely be delayed for a time while you boys work on your end."

Bobby interjected, "Their end? All they have been doing is killing monsters and dealing with the Yellow Fever."

"Their incident in Rock Ridge, Colorado, was in fact very illuminating to us. There was also their rescue of Anna Milton, which returns to us a very powerful general. If anything, their activities have in one way or another interfered with Lilith's plans or given us vital intel to work with." (2)

Sam sighed with relief, "At least we haven't lost yet. Can you at least tell us if we can do anything to stop the seals?"

Castiel shook his head, "No, I am afraid all information regarding the seals is carefully monitored and contained. The lower tier-angels are completely unaware of why they do what they do – only the belief that they are stopping His rising is preventing them from questioning their superiors orders."

"So even you don't know? What, did your bosses catch wind of the 3rd party?"

Castiel pondered at Dean's words, "Based on what has happened, they suspect something is going on. For some of the seals to have been broken, something… powerful must have been involved."

Dean sat up from his chair, "Define 'powerful'"

Castiel pondered, "One of the seals broken required several individuals to die under paradoxical circumstances in the same area within a preset amount of time. Typically, it would occur over a period of thirteen days – they did them all in one."

Panic was on Sam's face at that revelation, "Wait, are you telling me that thirteen people died under mysterious circumstances in one day?"

Castiel nodded, "It was presumably done so that Hunters like you would not have time to respond. It would have been unlikely that someone would not have noticed: one death involves burning in the cold, and another requires an individual to drown in a drought."

Dean whistled, "Yeah, people would have noticed – especially if they were spread out over multiple days. Kill them all in one day just makes a statistical anomaly."

"Indeed. Their methods of death were also… 'accidental' in origin. I haven't seen murders like this since they were forced by the Fates."

"The Fates? As in, the Greek Fates? The ones who weave your life on golden strings and write your end?"

"Yes Sam, those Fates. I am very close with one of them, and I have seen their work. On the rare occasions that someone's death _must_ happen or is _forcefully_ written, the events that transpire to end them are unnatural to the casual observer." (3)

Dean perked up, "Are we talking broken laws of physics weird or improbable circumstances?"

The angel replied, "You humans have a concept called Rube Goldberg machine…"

Dean nodded, "Got it – improbable circumstances."

Castiel nodded, "There is also the fact that the little chatter we got makes it seem that the demons breaking that seal were not responsible for its rapid completion. Their early conclusion of the seal has apparently significantly delayed Lilith's progress."

Dean asked, "Why is that? They are breaking down locks – you would think getting all at ones is a good thing."

Sam snapped his fingers, "Not if the breaking of the seals was the same thing as defusing a bomb. The seals must be broken in a specific order at specific times for Lilith's to progress. But the early completion of the deaths must have broken the chain. Guess you angels have some breathing room…What's wrong Castiel?"

Castiel wasn't paying attention to Sam, as his eyes were darting back and forth at the implications that the Winchester has spoken.

Dean was slowly approaching the angel, "Cass? You there buddy?"

Castiel finally noticed what happened, "I am sorry, I was listening to my brothers and sisters speaking. It seems that Sam idea is right – many of the demon operations that were currently occurring have been abandoned."

Dean cheered up, "Sweet. Score a point for the good guys."

Bobby gave Dean a look, "You idjit, don't you get it? The 3rd party interfering managed to stop the progression of the Apocalypse by who knows how long in ONE DAY! Granted, they killed thirteen people to do it, but we are at war, dammit! This is beyond what we anticipated."

Castiel agreed with the elder, "Yes, the involvement of an outside force is no longer possible to ignore as a fact. It also shows that this group is on neither side of the war."

Dean waved a finger, "Or…their playing both sides."

Everyone gave Dean an odd look.

"Oh, come on, this feels like I am watching a classic thriller movie in which a company is fueling a war between two forces. This means that them accelerating the timetable for that seal was to delay the impending Apocalypse… Which means that they are playing both sides to see which one will win in the end… I hate to say this Castiel, but there is definitely some sort of corporation between angel and a demon."

Castiel had to nod, unfortunate as it was, "That is no longer undeniable. With the amount of regulation we have regarding the seal and the operations to break them, it must be someone high-tier."

Bobby whistled, "If the corruption is so high up means that there is no one we can trust, except for Anna."

"We are screwed then," said Dead deadpanned, "First me coming back from Hell, then the angels, then the Apocalypse, now a possible Legion of Doom? This is becoming more and more like a Saturday morning cartoon."

Castiel was confused, "I do not understand the reference."

"You don't have to, Cass. Just… go back to Heaven and do your angel duties. We will do what we can on our end."

"Well then…Farewell, Winchesters…Mr. Singer."

As Castiel teleported away, Dean said underneath his breath, "At least he said 'goodbye' this time."

* * *

 _March 25th, 2009 (4)  
_

"So let me get this straight," started off Bobby as the boys returned after being missing for nearly a month. "Castiel's supervisor named Zachariah removed your memories, took you who knows where, made Dean some sort of posh-executive and Sam the tech support in the same company, put you in a deadly situation without your regular skills…All to prove that Hunting was in your genes and that you guys have a better life than you think?"

"There is also probably something about hexing you not to notice our absence and that we have grander roles in the future, but…yeah, probably."

Castiel didn't want to set Bobby off, but he had to add, "In all fairness, many were against this… misuse of time but he was my superior – there was nothing I could do about it."

"REALLY!? This was the best of use of the time they thought they had while in a WAR with HELL to stop THE APOCALYPSE!" Dean wasn't wrong, but he needed to vent after eating salad for a month and listening to NPR.

"Dean, calm down. Just be glad we managed to remember as much as we did."

Castiel looked up at that, "What do you mean? Zachariah may have misused his authority, but his alterations to your memories were absolute. You were never supposed to remember anything – the ghost should have only forced you two to work together by coincidence."

Dean got real focused on that little slip-up, "So us always meeting in the elevator was supposed to happen but Sam having his dreams and remembering monsters wasn't?"

Bobby thought about it, "Seems like someone interfered with your boss's experiment, Castiel. All it takes is introducing one rogue variable… Oh, balls."

Sam and Dean beat Bobby to the punch, "Wait, wait…the 3rd party?"

Castiel shook his head, "No, the building and you both were constantly under watch. No one got near anyone of you without us knowing."

Sam just looked conflicted, which Dean caught, "Sam…what are you thinking?"

"Well…the angels made me technical support, so I would always get calls regarding computers and stuff. But…"

Castiel walked up to Sam, "But what?"

"Once in a while, some kid would call me at random times, always about weird stuff. Things like having a ghost in his laptop, his dad being a demon, or a shapeshifter replacing his nanny. I thought it was some sort of prank, so I ignored him but…The calls stopped after I started getting the dreams and doodling monsters."

Bobby chuckled, "That is some jacked-up loophole in your security, angel. Didn't you monitor their calls? Guess all it took to shake out Sam's memories were some keywords, huh?"

Castiel was clearly annoyed, "This is…unexpected. If we had completely removed your memories, such involvement would have done nothing. Thankfully, such process would have left a significant chunk of your being empty which is why we didn't do it. Sam's nature may have also played a role…"

"Nope, I got a similar call once. I can only guess that since I was always on the line with some executive sucking-up, he always went to voicemail or I just declined the call. I wouldn't get enough exposure, so the kid must have focused on Sammy instead."

Dean noted that Sam was sitting on the couch thinking about something intently, "What's up, Sammy? You remember something else?"

"Remember that shapeshifter we dealt with during Oktoberfest in Canonsburg?" (5)

Dean played along, "Yeah, sure? The weird guy who wanted to be a classic monster."

"Dean, do you remember that kid we overheard in the restaurant who said he would be all the monsters since he couldn't choose? It was a weird conversation to hear during Oktoberfest and the killings were kept quiet but… that conversation is what led me realize that our killer was a shapeshifter."

Dean nodded slowly, "You think his voice sounded the same as the caller?"

Sam nodded, "Maybe. But then I recalled something that happened on Halloween. Before we went to fight that bastard – and before he was possessed – I ran into some kid who told me to put on a mask or else the monsters would know I was human." (6)

Dean waved his hands, "Wait. I thought your idea about painting our faces was your own?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, but it was that black-haired kid's comment that made me remember it."

Dean got a panicked look on his face, "Uhh, Sammy…this black haired kid…was he young looking but somewhat tall and buff for his age?"

Bobby and Castiel realized that the boys just stumbled on to something odd while Sam answered, "He also wore glasses…"

Dean fell down on the other side of the couch, "I thought I hallucinated him when I caught the demon virus in Colorado. But then I thought I saw glimpses of him in Kansas, Washington, and Nebraska. I assumed I saw him back in that high school in Indiana. I definitely saw him in Magic City – he was doing a card trick and told one of the kids watching him that he picked it up after doing some work for an old magician…"

"Who gave him a book of tricks – just like our killer… Dean, weren't you in Kansas back in 1973?" (7)

Dean realized what was happening, "Son of a bitch! He was outside Cole Griffith's house when we both went ghost – he was only there for a second, but I know I saw him!" (8)

Castiel was slower on the uptake, "Does that mean you have both seen the same child ever since Dean rose from Hell?"

Dean shook his head, "No…there is no way that some almighty force hidden in the darkness playing both sides IS A KID!"

"Dean, the child is probably a vessel…"

"THEN THAT'S WORSE, cus' that means that however powerful this force is, the child is strong enough to contain it!"

Castiel had to agree with the sentiment, "More likely he was a perfect vessel but still…children are rarely used as vessels for a reason."

Bobby jumped, "That's dandy and all but there's a bigger issue here. John trained the boys to remember every little detail – how the hell did they miss that kid for so long?"

"Most likely the same way their memories were sealed by Zachariah."

Dean pointed, "Explain angel! I don't like knowing that someone hands were in my noggin more than once! Besides, wouldn't Zachariah or you notice at some point after sifting through our noggins?"

"We don't need to put out hands in your head, Dean. The child most likely used a spell that played on the notions of ignorance and blending into the background. He didn't come back to you until you started prodding your memories."

Sam nodded, "Camouflage – you don't notice it's there until it is, then you can NOT see it."

"Indeed. Such subtle manipulations to your memories is most likely why I never spotted it whenever I healed you. Truly ingenious."

"Ingenious? WE'VE BEEN PLAYED CASS! Don't you get it – we have been moles without knowing it!"

"You're jumping the gun, Dean. It is more likely that whoever… whatever this kid is, it is more likely that he just watching you boys rather than manipulating you."

Castiel walked up to Sam and Dean and put his fingers on their foreheads. He held them there, light shining from his hands before he pulled away in a hurry. "No… this magic… we sensed it before…"

Dean just slammed his hand into his head, "The killings, isn't it? It was at the murders wasn't it?"

Castiel shook his head, "No, worse. We have felt it at sites of a few seals. We just assumed that it was some high-level demon who was watching from the sidelines, managing the operations but now…"

Sam stood up annoyed, "Dammit! I haven't felt this manipulated and played ever since…," Sam stopped mid walk.

Bobby asked first, "Since when, Sam?"

Sam carefully worded his answer, "Ever since we met that Trickster."

Castiel asked, "Trickster?"

Dean perked up, "You mean the one from the college in Ohio and the one who put you in a time loop in Florida?"

Sam pointed, "I still believe that it was a grand illusion but… yeah."

Castiel thought about, "Indeed. No mere Trickster has the power to rewrite time. In fact, no Trickster has such power."

Bobby quickly pointed out something, "Not if it was a god."

Everyone looked at Bobby, "Well…We have run into Pagan gods before, and some gods have abilities in similar veins, like Loki, Set, and Anansi the spider."

Castiel shook his head, "Anansi was never a god, just a very powerful being. Your theory, however, has merit…"

Dean clapped his hands, "A coalition of Pagan gods! It's perfect! They had the power until Christianity came along (9). If enough of them started working together, they would definitely have enough juice to play both sides without getting caught. Once Armageddon began, and both sides weakened each other, they would come in, kill both of you guys off, and still have enough humans left to worship them again. It's brilliant!"

Sam hopped in, "It would explain how they managed to get around the magics of both demons and angels. They may not have as much power as when they were worshiped in the past and may be weaker than certain angels and demons, but they are still masters in their respective domains. They can use gods of magic like Hecate to get around certain roadblocks."

Dean shook his head, "Sammy, you are such a nerd for knowing that."

"He is however right Dean," Castiel was looking out the window, "we angels have no way to tracking down gods of old and we have limited ways to stop them from interfering. I also can't bring it to my superiors as there is no possible way to set up wards against them all."

Bobby nodded, "It's brilliant when you think about – a force no one cares to pay attention to because they are your equivalent of retired geezers. That was your mistake, though – just because they are retired doesn't mean that they aren't experienced enough to watch and interfere from the sidelines."

"I will do what I can with what limited authority I have. I will return when more information because available to me."

Castiel teleported away before Dean asked, "Is he gone?"

Sam looked at his brother confused, "Yeah, we just saw him…"

"No, I mean, can he still hear us? Cus'… everything I said was just stuff I made up on the top of my head."

Bobby started to choke-cough, "BUT YOU WERE RIGHT!"

Dean pointed at Bobby, "But it is too easy. It fits too neatly together, especially with us CONVENIENTLY seeing a kid for the last few months."

Sam just thought about it, "You think the Pagan gods are the red herring?'

Dean nodded, "Definitely. I mean… maybe I am overthinking it. But… all the planning, all the manipulations… I've been in Hell long enough and heard enough of their bickering to spot demon involvement when I see it."

"Dean, you realize that we are back to our initial idea that demons and angels are working together, right?"

"I know Sammy! But unless someone comes and tells us otherwise, we are playing with two very terrifying and unlikely theories."

Bobby tipped his head, "Guess all we can do is keep moving forward and play along, boys. The 3rd party is bound to slip up eventually."

The Winchesters had nodded before Dean asked, "Can we stop calling them the '3rd party'? I mean, can we just call something like, I don't know… how about 'The Outsiders'?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Why 'The Outsiders'?"

Dean just looked as his brother annoyed, "Because they are outside the normal field of play."

Bobby and Sam couldn't argue that logic.

* * *

 _April 6th, 2009_

"Hey Bobby, you got a package."

Dean walked into the living room while Bobby and Sam from their books – a familiar scene.

"Does it say from who?"

Dean checked the package, "No, seems like it was hand delivered. Should I open it?"

Bobby shrugged – closest thing to a 'yes' in the house. As Dean opened the package, a book fell out.

Sam noted the book title first, "Oh no…"

Dean finally picked up the book and read it, "' _Mystery Spot'_ by Carver Edlund. That was kind of Chuck."

"Dean, there a letter on the floor."

Dean picked up the letter, opened it, and started reading it out loud:

" _Hello Bobby, Dean, and Sam._

 _Hope you enjoyed meeting Chuck Shurley – the man may be troubled, but at least someone out there is chronicling the good work you do._

 _Keep fighting the noble fight, it will end well in the future. All you have to do is give it time and have faith._

 _Not all things are what they seem. Those who are your side can be against you, and those who are part of the enemy choose to fight against them._

 _Always remember: we play the roles we are given and expected. One can decide to be weaker than anticipated. One can pretend to boast more power than actually available to them. One can even choose to do neither and stay out of the fight._

 _We live in a world of free-will and choices. Remember what you are fighting for._

 _P.S. Hope that you don't jump the shark! (You will get the reference soon enough)_

 _Sincerely,_

 _your 'creepy' kid friend,_

 _Harry M."_

If the men in the house could be gawking at the moment after hearing that letter, they would be. Bobby was first to respond, "Guess we know who has been stalking you boys."

Sam jumped in, "You think he is screwing with us or is there some deeper message in that letter?"

Dean crumbled up the letter, "Sammy, if we start playing that game, we gonna start reading into everything. For all we know, his book choice can have a deeper meaning as well!"

Bobby nodded, "At least you have a name – Harry. Doesn't seem angelic, demonic, or pagan to me. He could just be human then."

Sam was still confused, "What do you think he meant by 'jumping the shark'?"

* * *

 _April 17th, 2009 (Winchester's find out about their half-brother Adam Milligan) (10)  
_

"SON OF A BITCH!"

* * *

 **(1) Right after Season 4, Episode 12, "Criss Angel is a Douchebag"**

 **(2) Rock Ridge is Season 4, Episode 6, "Yellow Fever". Anna Milton is Season 4, Episode 9 and 10, "I Know What You Did Last Summer" and "Heaven & Hell"**

 **(3) Atropos (one of the Fates) makes an appearance in Season 6, Episode 17, "My Heart Will Go On." (a reality I would willingly live in)**

 **(4) A day after the events of Season 4, Episode 17, "It's A Wonderful Life." (description of episode events are given)**

 **(5) Season 4, Episode 5, "Monster Movie."**

 **(6) Season 4, Episode 9, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester."**

 **(7) Demon virus in Colorado - "Yellow Fever"**

 **Kansas - Season 4, Episode 3, "In The Beginning."**

 **Washington - Season 4, Episode 5, "Wishful Thinking."**

 **Nebraska – Season 4, Episode 11, "Family Remains"**

 **Old magician - Season 4, Episode 12, "Criss Angel Is a Douchebag"**

 **High school in Indiana – Season 4, Episode 13, "After School Special"**

 **(8) Season 4, Episode 15, "Death Takes a Holiday"**

 **(9) Technically, this was a gaff on my part since I forgot about Season 5, Episode 19, "Hammer of the Gods" but it worked out in the end.**

 **(10) Season 4, Episode 19, "Jump the Shark". The episode was literally titled as such – why else do you think Dean was pissed?**


	9. This Was Not Part of the Plan

**Chapter 9: This Was Not Part of the Plan**

* * *

 _May 15th, 2009 (1)  
_

"Anything interesting in there, Harry?"

Harry was enjoying the works of Philip K. Dick when Gabriel approached him carrying two cups of tea.

It was a calm day in Crowley's study. The stoic demon was taking care of the plans regarding the Apocalypse at his desk, Harry was on the couch reading, and Gabriel was just… being Gabriel.

"No, just the usual – hypothetical science fiction regarding humanity, choice, and if robots dream of sheep." (2)

Gabriel chuckled, "Good to know. Having a slow day?"

Harry put in a bookmark before closing the novel, "What do you mean?"

Crowley, without looking up from his work, said it first, "If you aren't studying, killing, screwing with the Winchesters, or ensuring the Apocalypse, what else is there to do for you?"

Harry just looked at his father in shock, "'What do you think I am – some sort of wunderkind? I am still an eight-year-old kid. No matter how powerful, committed, patient, and crazy I am… I still need some days off."

"This coming from the kid who managed to make a pair of ghouls eat the half-brother of the Winchester along with his mother just to piss the boys off?" (3)

Harry's smile faltered, "It was necessary. Adam was a random character in this story who could be a substitute vessel for Michael. Tis' better to remove him from the board now than later – I doubt the angels will resurrect someone unwillingly from Heaven and use such a desecrated body. Besides, those particular ghouls have been getting too greedy in their hunt for fresh meat."

Gabriel nodded in appreciation while sipping chamomile, "Clever; two birds with one stone."

"Three birds," corrected Harry. "With the letter I send them beforehand, I managed to screw with them even more. Now they think that I am probably some sort of precognition uber-god."

Gabriel laughed, "Now that is a trick worthy of recognition!" He took another sip before asking, "How did you even know what they are up to at any given moment?"

"I don't. I usually just pop-in once in a while whenever I have the time. Otherwise, I just wait for the angel to leave."

"Why?"

"Because whenever the angel is around means that it's time for exposition. You can count on your fingers the number of times he has been called in for action. Otherwise, the boys are on the job." (4)

Crowley looked up, "So… blood tracking?"

Harry nodded, "Very easy to get blood given freely when they smear it on their faces for Halloween."

Crowley whistle in appreciation, "You used your brand of magic to get it?"

Harry got up from the couch to give a dramatic theater bow, "Twas' easy for the spry Puck to snatch the younglings blood, for all it took was a spell of concealment and a quick hand to preserve the blood for tracking and search." (5)

Gabriel shook his head in disappointment, "Can you please stop butchering the Bard? Hollywood has done enough damage as it is."

Both Harry and Crowley laughed before the youngling sat back down on the couch, "So Dad, how is the business with the seals going?"

Crowley looked up a different set of files, "Hard to say… Lilith may tell me everything regarding the major operations, but some she keeps on the backburner. But from I what have been able to gather from my… associates… we are definitely in the high fifty's."

Harry smiled cheerfully, "Good. We are one step closer to your upcoming promotion."

Crowley had to interrupt, "You realize that for me to get a promotion, LUCIFER has to die. Hell, Lilith and Lucifer both have to die."

Harry nodded, "Not necessarily. We can all assume that Lucifer is going be removed from the board one way or another – the Winchesters will make sure of that. Lilith… well, we know women like Lilith: the minute shit hits the fan, she will do everything in her power to run and hide, for her facade of power is just that – an illusion spread by the masses."

Crowley had to agree with that, "If anything, the bloody lass will probably come running to me for aid. Then I will introduce her to my knife and lock her far-far away. Never to die, stuck in a moment in time ensuring that Lucifer is never freed as she remains the only one with the necessary knowledge of the seals to open his cage."

Gabriel raised his cup, "For that is the circle of life. Honestly, I am surprised that Harry managed to play both sides so well. If I had the right to bestow titles, I would gladly call you a Trickster."

Harry raised his cup of tea in good cheer, "Hear, hear. If all goes the way I've set the story up, all of our problems should be resolved soon enough…"

That was all Harry managed to get out before he started to fall, seizing, clutching his body in pain. Crowley and Gabriel both dropped everything they were doing to aid their ward.

Harry held his head in pain, "No, no, no! This….Ahh!...This is wrong! This migraine…Dammit!...The strings… they are all wrong!"

Gabriel couldn't figure out what was wrong with the boy, "Harry? HARRY! What's wrong?"

Crowley kept darting his eyes other his son, who was shaking in pain, "No…she didn't…she accelerated the plan…"

"What?"

"The final seal – while extreme – is able to be chosen. Depending on the path taken, the last seal varies on the difficulty of the preceding ones. Lilith wanted the final seal to be the desecration of the holiest place in the world – Harry practically insured it! But if she was desperate…"

Gabriel finally realized what was happening, "And it is written, that the first demon shall be the last Seal… Harry told me it was a possibility, but he made sure that the Winchester would never cross that line…"

"Unless someone forced their hand…"

Gabriel picked up Harry and sat him down on the couch, the child slowly recovering, "My brothers…truly, I hoped they wouldn't cross this line… Michael, how have you fallen so far? Uriel…DAMMIT!"

In his outburst, Gabriel smashed his fist upon the mantle, shattering it but not the fireplace. "My brother… Lucifer is finally free…"

"No… not yet… not truly…" Harry slowly started to rise from the couch before falling back on it. "It seems like… Lilith's intervention… caused another player to answer in kind…"

Gabriel looked up from his pondering, fury still upon him, "WHO ELSE IS LEFT? The Heavens, Hell, who else is left to alter the playing field?"

Harry only had to speak one word to shatter the illusion that this game was to end as they expected, " _HIM_."

Silence fell upon the study.

"You don't mean…" stuttered Gabriel, "Him as in…"

Harry slowly regained his strength, "Lilith's hasty plan was in desperation – neither side was ready for the final battle. Sam was supposed to be the perfect vessel; he was almost ready to go. But the exertion to kill her has wasted away all the demon blood in his system. If everything had stuck to the script, then the final fight should have happened much later and under different circumstances…WHAT WENT WRONG?

Crowley chuckled, "One little voice…"

Gabriel and Harry looked at Crowley, confusion covering their faces, "Sam was in detox, right? His caring elder brother, trying to get rid of all the poison in his system? It would only take the lone voice of the women giving him the drug to ensure he would do the one thing his personality wouldn't allow, especially with body craving it…"

Harry laughed, "Ruby wasn't your agent – she wasn't even Lilith's. She was an honest to god triple agent answering to Lucifer himself."

Harry started to progressively laugh louder, "Oh, the deceiver indeed! To become so impatient as to force the death of his first creation. To ignore the fact that his troops weren't ready! He even probably had Uriel's support without even knowing!"

Harry started to cry a little, "There are no strings on me…oh, the irony. The one person trying to ensure that things end a certain way stretched them too far. The strings pulled back and shook all the work away."

Crowley went to his son, who was experiencing his first real failure. All he wanted was to do something kind and sincere for the man who saved him from his personal hell. Yet, all his efforts, all the things he had to do – just shattered, blown away by one decision.

Gabriel slowly approached the depressed father and son, "Harry, you mentioned something about God interfering… tell me, what did Father do?"

Harry shook his head, trying to recall what he had forgotten, "He didn't interfere much… he resurrected Castiel after he was killed by Zachariah and got the Winchesters to safety… Enough to get the job done but not enough to be noticed…wait…no…no…NO..."

Harry got extremely panicked, something that neither adults were enjoying – especially when he activated the second level of his sight. Ever since the 'incident,' Harry rarely used it and only in the presence of either Crowley or Gabriel for safety. Harry suddenly got off the couch, starting to swing his hands in the air – 'Minority Report' style.

Harry eventually stopped mid-movement. "Crowley, when is the last time you communicated with Lilith?"

Crowley thought about, "Two days ago – Why?"

Harry gulped, "Because the last seal was broken almost a day ago."

Gabriel dropped his cup, "The third act of magic – he delayed anyone from either side realizing what happened. Wait, no… he delayed most from realizing what happened. Zachariah was too close to the explosion not to notice, and everyone in Heaven already knew from him."

No one spoke a word. The worst possible outcome has occurred – Lucifer bested everyone with one pawn, God did as little as possible, and now Lucifer was free.

Harry didn't care. Indignation and fury were on his face. Like his father, he hated being tricked. He hated being on a bad end of the deal.

HE HATED BEING THE MANIPULATED.

"Crowley, Gabriel – I am afraid that we have been rather… passive… in our actions to ensure an outcome favorable to us."

Crowley slowly got up, "Harry boy, shouldn't you… turn off your eyes?"

"No. My fear of using this level of Sight is what got us here. I was playing regular chess while Lucifer was playing in the 4th Dimension. No... time to become proactive."

Harry took off his glasses, slowly straining his eye more and more, furiously twitching them back and forth. He was diving deep into the code behind reality.

He started crying blood – it was too much for his eyes.

Gabriel began to panic, "Harry, you have to stop! Not even your nature or magic will heal you."

Harry shook his head, blood now coming out of his ears, "No… not yet… have to see all possibilities…have to see the new endgame… make a new plan…"

Crowley put his hands on his son's shoulder, "Harry, you have to stop! You are going too far in! God will not excuse such transgression!"

Harry fell on his knees, screaming in pain, finally stopping before falling on the floor. He held himself up by his hands, panting in pain, bloodshot eyes.

"This is one of those good new, bad news situations… The good news is that Lucifer gets locked up again…"

Both Crowley and Gabriel sighed in relief, before the demon asked, "What's the bad news?"

Harry shook his head, "I am sorry to say that unless we expose ourselves to the world as who we are, Lucifer wins. Dad, Uncle Gabe… are you willing to go the distance to save the world?"

Gabriel chuckled, "Can you not make it sound like we are some sort of ragtag group of heroes? We are outcasts, those who don't belong with anyone: a noble demon, an angel who kills for fun, and a creation of their joint efforts."

Crowley laughed, "Makes us the bloodiest unknown force in existence, now doesn't it?"

Harry had to smirk at that, "Sure Dad, but you are not going to enjoy the fact that you are going to reveal yourself to the Winchesters – no more backroom deals for you."

"Bloody hell."

Harry started to get up, "With Lucifer out of his cage, the boys have no choice but to seal him back in it. Normally, they would have a myriad of ways to do so. However, since Lucifer is releasing the Horseman, the boys are going to go after their rings. This means that they are going to need the Colt."

"Dammit."

"If it follows the usual patterns, it going to be War, Famine, Pestilence, and finally Death. However, Pestilence is going to be the dangerous one since he is going to weaponized Yellow Fever and Death hates Lucifer and plays for no one."

Gabriel nodded, "Rumor has it that Death is older than God and is going to be the one to claim Him."

Harry concurred, "We are also going to have to find a way to get the team back together."

Crowley perked up, "You mean Moose and Squirrel? Why?"

Harry sighed, "I know you are against it, but they are perfect vessels, which makes them the perfect prey to catch the enemy."

"And who is the enemy?"

"Take your pick – Heaven, Hell, Zachariah…"

Gabriel interrupted, "Zachariah? Why him?"

"He screwed up too often. He is most likely going to get demoted since he can't convince Dean to accept Michael. Which means – since he is a douche – he will make one last ditch effort to get on his boss's – Uriel's – good side and fail miserably. This will most likely what will get the boys back together – I think…"

Crowley was shocked, "You think! You saw the freaking future…"

Harry pointed a finger at his father, "I saw possibilities at best. Heck, one has a freaking Anti-Christ in it – ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE AT THIS POINT!"

"Touché."

Gabriel crossed his hands, "So, Harry… what's the plan?"

"The plan is simple – get those emotionally broken bastards back together, make them save the world, and leave us all the treasure for the taking."

Crowly nodded, "What's the first move?"

Harry chuckled – evilly – and responded, "Black opens with Queen's pawn to D5."

* * *

 _May 31st, 2009 (6)  
_

"Harry, was it necessary to send Rufus and the Wonder Girls to River Pass, Colorado?"

"Sorry Dad, but while War is the easiest Horseman to slay, Sammy boy has to be berated by his brother for his dependence on demon blood."

"Why?"

"Because Uncle Gabe, to raise someone up, you must first break them down to their lowest point. Now while the Winchesters boys wallow in their suffering and Bobby gets acquainted in being a cripple, we have other things to worry about…"

* * *

 _June 22nd, 2009 (7)  
_

"So how did it feel infiltrating Heaven again, Uncle Gabe? Just like you remember it?"

"Oh, words can't describe it – Cancun comes very close, though."

"Shove a pipe in it Trickster and tell me if you managed to convince your younger siblings with the plan."

"Sure thing, Daddy. Took a lot of multiple characters and low-level positions to get the idea up the chain of command, but Zachariah managed to get the idea. Succeeded in convincing the others it was entirely his own idea – that will come back to haunt him."

"As predicted Uncle Gabe. What about Dean?"

"Seeing as how influence was at best circumstantial, Lucifer – even in his full power future mode – shouldn't have sensed anything, especially since he was talking to the past Dean. Truly, ignorance is bliss. As such, Dean now has the thought of forgiving Sam in his head, which he ended up acting on by calling a truce with Sammy."

"He gave him the demon-killing knife in good conscience?"

"Yep."

"Seriously, you two should find a way to get rid of that thing. I keep losing my best negotiators to it."

"Well then Dad, you should stop sending pencil pushers to do the grunt work – you have hell-hounds for that."

* * *

 _July 31st, 2009_

Nothing happened this day.

Crowley took his now regular day-off from Hell – which everyone noticed for the last few years.

Gabriel finished his killing and torturing early.

Harry waited for his parents.

This small, odd menagerie of people, had a day to themselves, celebrating the child's ninth birthday.

As far as they were concerned, they were in their own little world for those precious few hours.

* * *

 _October 12th, 2009 (8)  
_

"So what did you do with the Cambion?"

"His name is Jesse – let's not forget this was a child, not the actual Anti-Christ."

"Indeed. Angels have been hunting and smiting those bastards for a long time."

"I though angels couldn't hurt humans – even half-humans were safe. You said so yourself."

"True. Half-human hybrids like the Nephilim and Cambion are always monitored by the highest powers in Heaven. The minute they even get a thought that those…'monsters'… are considering to use their powers… improperly… they were smited."

"I can only assume that the angels were very loose with their definition of 'improperly.' Am I right?"

"Yes. I was more lenient in my judgment of the unfortunate souls. Never truly believed in the whole 'sins of the father' crap – humans have free-will and souls for a reason. Kept a close eye on their descendants – even to this day. You wouldn't believe how many famous people have claim to less than human heritage."

"Really now? Anyone I would know down in Hell? Are their souls any different?"

"Sometimes. I want to say that their ancestors cause their behavior to learn in the respective directions but if this family is any indication, good and bad are relative, regardless of the powers used."

"Indeed. Who would thought that I – a demon – would have an Archangel as a friend and a 'monster' as a son?"

"Even demons have a heart, Dad. Even demons have a heart…"

* * *

 _November 4th, 2009 (9)  
_

"You managed to fix the boys relationship with their father-figure?"

"Yep. Didn't take much. A whisper here, an actual honest and good warlock in South Dakota of all places, a magic high-stake poker game, and two lives in danger of dying of old age."

"Have to admit, though, in all my years walking this Earth, magic users like him are very rare: powerful, dangerous, yet willingly chooses not to use their powers for real evil and chaos and keep out of the spotlight. Except for a few rare exceptions…"

"Really, Uncle Gabe? Like who?"

"You ever hear of David Copperfield?"

"HE'S A WARLOCK?"

"Well, what did you suspect, Crowley? A person actually chooses a name after a Charles Dickens novel and can get away from making the Statue of Liberty disappear with misdirection?

I don't care how much practice and preparation you have – I checked to make sure!"

"Dad, Uncle Gabe, we are getting off topic. Our goon squad is finally back together, and Lucifer's pieces are finally beginning to circle like sharks smelling chum around Sam."

"So what's our next move, Harry?"

"I am afraid it's time for you to reveal yourself to the forces of good, Uncle Gabe. Time to dish out some 'just-desserts.' – go wild, Uncle Gabe."

"You don't have to give me permission to screw with the Winchesters. I have some venting to do and a double-meaning speech to craft."

* * *

 _November 13th, 2009 (10)  
_

The Winchester stood in front of Gabriel, currently stuck in a warehouse in a burning circle. Gabriel had to clap for that. "Well played, boys. Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?"

Dean laughed while Sam grimaced at recalling the memory, "Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass."

Gabriel had to put on his serious face to play the role of tricking the Winchesters – all to ensure they would seal up Lucifer. "Where'd I screw up?"

Sasquatch was first to respond, "You didn't. Nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did."

His brother followed up, "Mostly it was the way you talked about Armageddon."

This caught Gabriel 'off-guard', "Meaning?"

"Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family."

Sam was getting very pissed at this point, "So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?"

Gabriel smiled. _Time for the big reveal and game changer_. "Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel."

Finally, shock struck the smarter Winchester – Dean just stood watching, mildly amused. "Gabriel? The archangel?"

Gabriel smiled to himself, "Guilty."

Dean chuckled, "Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a Trickster?"

 _Time for the monolog portion of this act._ "My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you two screwed it all up."

"What did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans."

 _Okay, can't fake this anger now._ "Daddy doesn't say anything about anything."

"Then what happened? Why'd you ditch?". Dean followed after Sam, "Do you blame him? I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles."

 _Okay, too far._ "Shut your cakehole. You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again."

Sam started to plead, "Then help us stop it."

"It can't be stopped."

The righteous brother pounced, "You wanna see the end of the world?"

"I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you two! Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be over."

Sam started to plead again, "It doesn't have to be like that. There has to be some way to, to pull the plug."

Gabriel laughed, "You do not know my family. What you guys call the Apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate."

"What are you talking about?"

 _Huh, guess I am going to be using Harry's advice in this case. Now how did his comparison go?_ "You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other."

Dean was first to ask, "What the hell are you saying?"

"Why do you think we… I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always."

A long pause. Sam and Dean look down, then at each other. "No. That's not gonna happen."

Gabriel sighed, "I'm sorry. But it is. Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be." (11)

Gabriel clapped his hands, "So. Boys. Now what? We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?"

Dean got smug but angry, "Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him."

 _Oh, I am_. "Oh am I?"

"Yeah. Or we're going to dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an Archangel."

Gabriel snapped his fingers, causing Castiel to re-appear, bruises and cuts still present.

Dean rushed to his friend, "Cas, you okay?"

Castiel was confused at first before he realized what happened, "I'm fine. Hello, Gabriel."

"Hey, bro. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful."

Castiel glared while Dean piled on, "Okay, we're out of here. Come on, Sam."

Dean turned and started to walk away before Sam asked, "You said 'we.'"

 _Ah, he caught that._ "Excuse me?"

Dean turned back to his brother with Castiel watching, "What are you talking about Sammy?"

Sammy pointed at Gabriel, "In your speech, you said 'we' before you switched to 'I've.' You have a partner, don't you?"

Castiel pondered, "No, he can't. Gabriel was friendly with many in Heaven, but he was still a rogue – no one would leave our home just because he didn't want to be around his family."

Gabriel smirked while Dean caught the implications, reconsidering the angel's speech, "Unless the 'we' is a new family."

Castiel panicked before quickly examining the Archangel again. "No, he couldn't have. He couldn't have fathered a child: we would have sensed it."

Gabriel was laughing, "I don't have a child."

The others had sighed before Gabriel continued, "A nephew, however, is a different story."

Castiel thought about it, "No. Your brothers haven't left Heavens in ages."

"He is my nephew in name only. And boy did you guys piss him off! Especially you, Sammy."

Sam was confused, "Me? What did I do?"

Gabriel shook his hands in the air, "YOU KILLED LILITH! Do you know how much effort Harry put into making sure that she was left as the last viable seal, so that she could be captured and sealed away?"

Dean interrupted, "Woah, woah, woah, HARRY? As in Freaky Harry?"

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders, "You mind not calling him that? As his Uncle Gabe, I take offense to that. And yes, you dunces, he was following you. He was making sure that you guys didn't get captured and forced into becoming vessels. He also had to make sure that you trusted no one but each other."

Sam was conflicted by this, "Why? The manipulation, the games, the breaking of the seals… what did making us trust each other have to do with stopping the Apocalypse?"

Gabriel was getting smugger, "And here I thought you were the smart one. Don't you get it? When you were in that church, ready to kill Lilith, it was you, Dean, and Ruby. Both sides were trying to convince you what to do. And what did you do instead of listening to your brother – THE ONE MEMBER OF THE FAMILY YOU HAD LEFT? YOU LISTENED TO YOUR BLOOD WHORE!"

Castiel finally realized what happened, "You WERE trying to stop the Apocalypse. If Sam hadn't killed Lilith, we could have captured her and locked her away, never to die."

"Afraid not, brother. You really think Uriel wouldn't have killed Lilith the next chance he got to jump start the Apocalypse? No, Sam's faltering should have given Lilith enough time to run away, back to my associate in Hell. He would have then locked her up, ENSURING that Armageddon would have never occurred."

They all faltered – the Winchesters and Castiel – as they realized who they were talking to, "You are 'The Outsiders'! You guys were the one who were manipulating both sides of the war!"

Gabriel smiled, "We prefer 'The Others, ' but that's good too. Hard to believe, isn't? Three is the magic number. And it did, in fact, take only three beings to ALMOST avert the Apocalypse. We had an Archangel, a high-ranking demon, and Harry."

Castiel just couldn't believe it, "No, that can't be right. Three beings couldn't have done so much…"

Gabriel just looked at Castiel, "Seriously? This, coming from the two brothers and a rogue angel? Look in the mirror first."

"No, not that. Harry… what is your nephew?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? Let's just say that his conception was not natural nor ordained nor even part of the grand plan _He_ planned out. Harry is the little monster any parent would be proud of."

Dean was getting angry, "Sam, stop listening to him! He is a Trickster, he said so himself! Everything he is telling us is a lie! Now let's go."

Sam and Castiel looked at each other before following Dean.

Gabriel started to panic a little, "Uh. Okay. Guys? So, so what? Huh? You're just gonna leave me here forever?"

Dean stopped at the door and turned back, "No. We're not, 'cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to YOUR family."

Dean pulled the fire alarm. Gabriel looks up, the sprinklers go off, before looking back at Dean, "Don't say I never did anything for you."

Gabriel glared as Dean, Sam, and Castiel left.

Castiel paused for a second before looking back at his brother, who stood in a slowly diminishing circle of fire, "You are telling the truth, aren't you? You were trying to stop the Apocalypse?"

Gabriel shook his head, "Not me personally. Harry was the one who spearheaded the operations. My associate and I were helping from the sidelines, as advisors and agents for our respective sides. Did you really think it was Zach who came up with the idea to send Dean into the future on his own? Harry wants his little family unit to be left in peace, and the end of the world wasn't exactly part of that plan."

Castiel looked down, "You going to tell me what Harry is?"

Gabriel looked down to make sure the fire was put out, "Don't worry – you boys will hear from Harry soon enough - if everything goes as he planned. See you on the flipside!"

The shock was all other Castiel's face as Gabriel teleported away. If someone were there to hear his thoughts, all that would be going through Castiel's mind would be, _What is Harry?_

* * *

 **(1) Mix between Season 4, Episode 22, "Lucifer Rising" and Season 5, Episode 1, "Sympathy for the Devil".**

 **(2) If you have read Philip K. Dick, you get the joke.**

 **(3) Season 4, Episode 19, "Jump the Shark" – see, told you – it deserves its name.**

 **(4) This true – for the first few seasons, Castiel did play this role.**

 **(5) Puck is from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and as shown by Mercury later in the season, blood can be taken that way and work.**

 **(6) Season 5, Episode 2, "Good God, Y'all".**

 **(7) Season 5, Episode 4, "The End".**

 **(8) Season 5, Episode 6, "I Believe the Children Are Our Future".**

 **(9) Season 5, Episode 7, "The Curious Case of Dean Winchester".**

 **Is mentioning that the episode name is a play on the Benjamin Button book and movie make it not a joke or a meta-joke? Because that's like, 16th wall break level of meta I think.**

 **(10) Season 5, Episode 8, "Changing Channels"**

 **(11) Okay, this has to be mentioned since the SHOW went meta on us.**


	10. First Encounters

**Chapter 10: First Encounters**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S** **NOTE**

 **Before anyone starts, the reason this chapter was done so fast is** because **it was mostly transcript from the show itself - with my modifications to the story.**

 **ENJOY AND REVIEW!**

* * *

 _November 24th, 2009 (Tuesday)_ (1) _  
_

Crowley was currently residing in his human abode, one as far away from Massachusetts as possible.

He just returned from 'signing' a deal with Mr. Pendelton to get his bank a complete bailout from their ridiculous incompetence.

Well, more like his incompetence. But how was he to know that one of his competitors signed away his soul to fail his bank? Both should have read the fine print.

He was currently sitting down, watching an old Nazi film when the electricity cuts out. He leaves the room to go greet his 'intruders'.

"It's Crowley, right?"

Crowley observed the Winchesters for the first time – all the times he has seen them was through pictures and surveillance, never in person. Sam was holding Ruby's knife and Dean a shotgun. Their girl Jo was not in sight.

"So. The Hardy Boys finally found me. Took you long enough."

He slowly approached, stopping when he saw his rug was rumpled. He looked underneath; a Devil's Trap has been drawn on the bottom of the rug.

"Do you have any idea how much this rug cost?"

His goons came out of the corners to grab Sam and Dean from behind, disarming them and pinning their arms. Crowley held up the Colt, admiring his piece – one he was soon going to lose.

"This is it, right? This is what it's all about."

Crowley aimed the gun at Dean, then adjusted his aim and shot both his goons. _No witnesses for this._

"We need to talk. Privately."

The Winchesters looked at each other in confusion while Crowley led them into another room.

Dean was firsts to ask, "What the hell is this?"

Crowley looked at the Colt for possibly the last time, "Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?"

Crowley waved his hand, slamming the door shut, "There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you."

The boys looked at the demon in confusion, with Sam just repeating the statement, "You told us."

"Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine." _Clever boy, aren't I?_

"Why? Why tell us anything?"

Crowley aimed the gun at Dean, "I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

"Uh-huh, okay, and why exactly would you want the Devil dead?"

As Crowley was putting down the gun, "It's called survival. Well, I forgot you two at best are functioning morons—"

"You're functioning...morons..." Dean wasn't great at spontaneous comebacks in these situations – no references to work with.

Crowley sighed, "Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?"

Sam tried to correct Crowley, "But he created you."

"To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the Devil?"

Crowley held out the Colt, handle first. Dean and Sam glanced at each other as Crowley wiggled the gun.

Sam hesitantly reaches out to take it. "Great."

Crowley nodded, "Great."

"You wouldn't happen to know where the Devil is, by chance, would you?

Crowley chuckled, "Thursday, birdies tell me, there's an appointment in Carthage, Missouri."

Sam glances at Dean and nodded, "Great."

Sam put the barrel between Crowley's eyes and pulled the trigger – no bang. He stares, surprised; Crowley stared back, impassive. "Oh, yeah, right, you'll probably need some more ammunition."

Crowley went to his desk, while Dean asked, "Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the Devil and lose?"

"Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. Three, Harry made sure that Lucifer will be in Carthage. And four, how about you don't miss, okay! Morons!"

Crowley tossed the bullets to Dean, who while catching them, gave him enough time to disappear.

Sam was first to notice, "Did he just mention Harry?"

Dean got pissed, "Son of a bitch!"

* * *

 _November 25th, 2009 (Wednesday)_

Five full shot glasses in a row next to a row of three upside-down shot glasses, a gap, and a full shot glass. Another glass was placed upside-down in the gap. Jo drank from a beer bottle while Ellen – her mom - drained the fifth and put it back upside-down.

Staring at Castiel, Ellen slurred out, "All right, big boy."

"Well," said Castiel before draining all five of his in a row while Ellen stared and Jo gawked, "I think I'm starting to feel something."

Sam and Dean were sitting on opposite sides of Bobby's desk, both with beer bottles.

Sam took a sip, "It's gotta be a trap, right?"

Dean laughed, "Sam Winchester, having trust issues with a demon - one who works with Harry and Gabriel. Well, better late than never."

"Thank you again for your continued support."

"You're welcome."

They clinked their bottles and drank their brew.

Dean was first to speak, "You know, trap or no trap, we got a snowball's chance, we gotta take it, right? Even if this kid made sure it happened?"

Sam shrugged, "Yeah, I suppose."

"Besides, I'm not sure it is a trap. Check it out. I mean, Carthage is lit up like a Christmas tree with Revelation omens. And look at this," said Dean as he pushed some papers toward Sam, "There's been six missing persons reported, in town, since Sunday. I think the Devil's there."

"That, or the kid got rid of the people so that Lucifer would have a town to use, but okay."

Dean went on, "Look, when you think about it...you can't come with."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean…"

"Look, I go against Satan and screw the pooch, okay. We've lost a game piece. That we can take. But if you're there, then we are handing the devil's vessel right over to him. That's not smart."

Sam had to know his brother was making his sense, but the Winchesters were stubborn bastards, "Since when have we ever done anything smart? Besides, you heard Gabriel – Harry has been watching us, maybe even guarding us…"

"I'm serious, Sam."

"So am I. Haven't we learned a damn thing? If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it together. I am not sending you out there alone to play some crazy chess match between Lucifer's 'Axis of Evil' and the 'Others'."

Dean and Sam looked at each other for a long moment, but Dean looked away first, "Okay. But it's a stupid frigging idea."

While Castiel, Ellen, and Jo continued to chat in the kitchen and the boys still argued about the plan, Bobby rolled in. "Everybody get in here! It's time for the lineup. Usual suspects in the corner."

Everyone – particularly Ellen – was against this but Bobby was adamant, "I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by."

Everyone is in the room now, getting in position for the picture, smiling. Ellen was first to cheer, "Ha! Always good to have an optimist around."

Castiel ruined the moment immediately, "Bobby's right. Tomorrow we hunt the Devil. This is our last night on earth."

The smiles disappear. The camera flashed.

* * *

 _November 26th, 2009 (Thursday)_

The Winchester gang – minus Bobby – were all in Carthage. Castiel was attempting to confirm why so many Reapers were in the town, but he got caught immediately.

The room was dark, lit mostly by firelight. Castiel was standing in the center of a ring of fire. He noticed the other person in the room, "Lucifer."

The figure spoke from the shadows, "So I take it you're here with the Winchesters."

"I came alone."

"Loyalty. Such a nice quality to see in this day and age. Castiel, right? Castiel. I'm told you came here in an automobile."

"Yes."

"What was that like?"

"Um. Slow. Confining."

"What a peculiar thing you are." Lucifer came out of the shadows, allowing Castiel to see his vessel in full. He didn't look healthy, with what appeared to be burns on his face.

"What's wrong with your vessel?"

"Yes. Um. Nick is wearing a bit thin, I'm afraid. He can't contain me forever, so…"

Castiel stepped forward, apparently intending to get in Lucifer's face, but stopped short because the fire separated them. "You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won't let you."

"Castiel. I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels."

"You really have to ask?"

Lucifer shrugged, hands raised in kind, "I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of Heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?"

"I'll die first."

Lucifer smiled, "I suppose you will."

Lucifer was about to walk away, "But before you do… how about you tell me about the child?"

Castiel said nothing.

"Your silence is all I need to confirm my suspicions. Lilith didn't believe me when I told her someone was manipulating her. She couldn't believe that somebody was responsible for instigating and breaking the seals. And I couldn't believe that I couldn't see this…thing… do it. I mean, I read and heard the accounts. I even scryed the magic's to try to track who was responsible. Even if they had the Enochian rib warding, I should have found them."

Lucifer was pacing while Castiel kept watching, "I could trace a few things – some angel and demon workings at the events, but mostly this signature was there… Completely foreign, something entirely new…"

Castiel tried not to show it, but the panic was on his face. "Do you know Castiel, how novel it is, as a being as old as I, to see something truly new? To experience the birth of something so powerful and majestic… and only have the desire to end its life due to its interference?"

Fury was upon Lucifer's vessel, "I finally got the best of him when I sacrificed Lilith to break the final seal. I honestly wanted to keep her alive, but the child left me no choice. I felt the magic's in the world reverberate from Sam killing her. That's when I knew – the child was manipulating fate. Not extremely: enough to cause change, not enough to raise the fury of the Fates, but enough. He pulled and twisted the strings enough times that the outcome should have been inevitable. It's a shame that I unraveled that particular coil when I had the chance."

Castiel couldn't follow the conversation at this point, "Oh, I am sorry. You weren't there when Uriel's gift from Father was taken away. In any case, he has been more aggressive in his attempts to keep Winchester's safe and hinder my actions long enough for this vessel to fail. You know how much effort I had to put in to get the ritual to summon Death? The boys think he set it up like this, but it was the opposite – I needed the ritual to occur here. I honestly don't know how big his group is, but they are crafty – trying to undesecrate this ground and all. Had to summon almost all the Reapers in the United States to summon Death – I usually need about a hundred."

Castiel was gawking now. Lucifer nodded, "Yes, so many Reapers in one place – not a lot of people are going to be dying in America tonight."

Castiel was still in the ring of fire, listening to Lucifer when Meg appeared, "I got the Winchesters pinned down. For now, at least. But their friends Ellen and Jo won't make it. What should I do with them?"

Lucifer nonchalantly answered, "Leave them alone."

This was not what Meg expected, "I… I'm sorry, but are you sure? Shouldn't we…"

"Trust me, child. Everything happens for a reason."

Lucifer stroked Meg's face before she left. Castiel looked around the room for a way to escape, but his only option was a pipe bolted to the wall.

"Well, Castiel, you have some time. Time to change your mind, no?"

* * *

 _November 27th, 2009 (Friday)  
_

 _Midnight is approaching, Jo and Ellen have sacrificed themselves to kill the Hellhounds, Dean and Sam are on a hill watching Lucifer filling a grave with a hoard of possessed humans watching._

"Hey!"

Sam approached Lucifer, readying a shotgun. Lucifer turned, dropping the shovel while Sam continued, "You wanted to see me?"

Lucifer smirked, "Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here. You know I'd never hurt you. Not really."

Dean points the Colt at Lucifer, point-blank to the forehead, having snuck from the side, "Yeah? Well, I'd hurt you. So suck it."

Dean fired the gun with Lucifer hastily collapsing. None of the demons did anything while Dean and Sam watched the corpse immediately inhale air and rise.

"Owww...", breathed out Lucifer as he stood up, "Where did you get that?"

Lucifer quickly punches Dean straight into a tree while Sam kept watching on Lucifer, "Now, where were we?

Lucifer shook his head before picking up the shovel, "Don't feel too bad, Sam. There's only five things in all of creation that that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done."

Sam hurried to Dean, checking for a pulse, while Lucifer continued burying whatever it was, before leaning on the shovel, "You know, I don't suppose you'd just say yes here and now? End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?"

"It's never gonna happen!"

Lucifer went back to filling his hole, " Oh, I don't know, Sam. I think it will. I think it'll happen soon. Within six months. And I think it'll happen in Detroit. Don't know why – just do. Whether it be by my hands or someone else, I don't care."

"You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me? I'm going to rip your heart out!"

"That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it."

Sam looked around at the possessed men, who were still doing nothing, "What did you do? What did you do to this town?"

Lucifer looked around, confused, "Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man."

"And the rest of them?"

Lucifer paused, looking around at the land, before pointing somewhere on the horizon, "In there. I know, it's awful, but these Horsemen are so demanding. So it was women and children first. I know what you must think of me, Sam. But I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Lucifer dropped the shovel, "I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. And one day I went to him, and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael—Michael turned on me. Called me a freak. A monster. And then he beat me down. All because I was different. Because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam. Any of this sound familiar? Anyway. You'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling, and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere. Not that you could if you would. And it's not like anyone is going to save you."

Sam went back to Dean while Lucifer turned to his hole, chanted, before turning back to his demons, "Now repeat after me. We offer up our lives, blood, souls…"

The demons started, "We offer up our lives, blood, souls…"

"To complete this tribute…"

"To complete this tribute…"

One by one, the demons flashed gold and fell over, dead, one by one, while the Winchesters stared at Lucifer, "What? They're just demons."

* * *

A bolt on the pipe in the wall was spinning, Castiel still in the fire ring, Meg watching.

"You seem pleased."

Meg was jovial, "We're gonna win. Can you feel it? You cloud-hopping pansies lost the whole damn universe. Lucifer's gonna take over Heaven. We're going to Heaven, Clarence."

"Strange, because I heard a different theory from a demon named Crowley."

Meg smiled slightly faltered, "You don't know Crowley."

"He believes Lucifer is just using demons to achieve an end, and that, once he does, he'll destroy you all."

Meg was slowly becoming angry, "You're wrong. Lucifer is the father of our race. Our creator. Your god may be a deadbeat. Mine—mine walks the earth."

Castiel got the bolt loose and pulled the pipe free of the wall. Unfortunately, Meg sensed it coming and got out of the pipes way.

Meg was back to her happy self, realizing she bested the angel, "Sorry, heard of that trick before – not gonna work on me. Besides, what would you have done afterward? You can't gank demons, can you? You're cut off from the home office, and you ain't got the juice. So what can you do, you impotent sap?"

"Him, not so much," said a voice behind Meg. She turned to look down upon what appeared to be a child, "Me, I have options."

"Who are…"

Harry shoved Meg – telekinetically – down across the ring of fire. She screamed in pain while Castiel looked down upon her and up at who he realized was Harry.

The boy waved his hand to the angel, "Well? Are you gonna stay there for all eternity or are we gonna go save the boys?"

Castiel considered his options, then walked on Meg – stepping directly on her face while she was still screaming – to get across the fire.

* * *

 _November 27th, 2009 - Midnight_

Lucifer stared at the mass grave, the ground shaking, the Winchesters watching what was happening.

Castiel, held by Harry, appeared next to Sam and Dean, who were shocked at the sight. Castiel held a finger to his lips – universal sign of silence.

Lucifer turned to see the Winchesters gone. He walked forward, "Oh, hello, Death."

* * *

 _November 27th, 2009 – Bobby's House_

Bobby was still sitting, clutching the radio in his hands before he heard the familiar sound of air displacement from teleportation. He rolled to see the boys and Castiel on the floor tired, bruised, and damaged.

"How in the…" started Bobby.

Dean was first to get up, "What the hell? What happened? Did Lucifer win?"

Sam put his hand on the couch to raise himself, "Lucifer summoned Death. We lost Ellen and Jo. Castiel is officially running on empty…"

Castiel interrupted, "I am not running on empty. I have no power left at all…"

Harry walked in from the kitchen, holding a glass of orange juice, "Let's see if we can correct that."

Harry touched two fingers to Castiel's head before he had the chance to argue. "This refill should last you till the final fight."

Neither Bobby nor Castiel could respond before the child easily picked up the large boys – relative to his size – and easily hefted them on the couch before healing them.

"Can you boys tell me how you manage to come back from every assignment damaged in some way? Is it so hard to ask for you to go in safe? How do you think Cass feels healing you every time? It's not exactly an easy thing to treat injuries, am I right?"

The last statement was said as Harry looked back at Castiel, "The… child… is corrected. It is not an easy to manipulate the organic matter and atoms to reconstitute you both. The energy requirements alone…"

"Is the main reason why Castiel is so drained," interrupted Harry. Harry walked to Bobby while the Winchesters gawked at what was happening. "I am sorry, Mr. Robert Steven Singer. While I have the energy to do so, I simply have no method to heal your legs. I could give energy to Castiel, but it would poison him immediately afterward – I doubt God will resurrect him again."

Harry walked to sit on a couch, drinking his orange juice, "I know this won't make you feel any better, but you have to know that Ellen and Jo are in Heaven now." Harry sipped while allowing the information to sink for everyone, "They were good people, Hunters who saved lives and died saving you two from the forces of Hell. No matter how much the higher-ups are against it, they can't interfere with the mechanisms that run Heaven in selecting souls."

Dean was stuttering, "Wait… who are you?"

The kid smiled as he finished his glass, "You already know who I am – didn't you get my letter?"

Sam got angry, "Harry."

Harry raised his glass in the air, "The one and only."

The boys were about to rush him before he waved them back into the couch before somehow calling up a pair of ice packs, "You are all angry and grieving. I would recommend that you rest and pay your respects. I will return soon enough to get you… caught up with the story."

The humans in the room could only watch as Harry went into the kitchen to put the dirty glass into the sink.

Only Castiel was brave enough to ask, "What are you?"

Harry smiled, "I've been called many things – monster, freak, student, demon, angel, and so many others… Personally, I just prefer Harry. But to ease your tensions, I started out as a wizard. Now… now I don't know what I am. I am, however, confident in who I am – someone trying to avert the Apocalypse."

Harry teleported away before Castiel had a chance to ask.

* * *

 _November 28th, 2009 – Morning_

The glasses from Ellen and Castiel's drinking competition are still on the table. The TV was on, showing a tornado; the captions read "STATE OF EMERGENCY, Paulding County" and "KOUA 16", while the news blared, "Just received an update that the governor has declared a state of emergency for Paulding County, including the towns of Marion, Fetterville, and Carthage. The storm system has reportedly touched off a number of tornadoes in the area."

Sam, Dean, and Bobby were gathered around the fireplace. Bobby held the photograph he had only taken yesterday of everyone.

"…Death tolls have yet to be estimated, but state officials expect the loss of life and property to be staggering."

Bobby leaned forward and dropped the picture into the flames. He, Dean, and Sam watched it burn.

Castiel teleported back in as silently as he could, "I am sorry to interrupt, but I checked Carthage… what was left of it. I am sorry to say that I could find no remains of neither Ellen or Jo. I know it is not what you wanted to hear…"

Dean interrupted, "No, it's alright Cass. At least we know that they will never return as spirits or such. Was Harry right,… are they in Heaven?"

Castiel nodded, "I can not confirm it, but he is correct – even if someone were against them in my home, there would be nothing they could about."

Bobby nodded, "At least something good happened to them in the end. Couldn't have asked for a better reward for their work."

Castiel nodded, 'Indeed. It seems that the child spoke the truth. While I didn't have a chance to confirm what he was, I did confirm that this magical energy was present at many sites of the seal being broken."

Sam sat down on the couch, still somber, "So whose sides is he on?"

Dean jumped in, "The better question is how he managed to get Crowley and Gabriel working together to avert the Apocalypse?"

Bobby rolled to his desk, "That is probably something you should ask him when he gets here. He is coming back, right? Because when he does, I want to be prepared?"

Dean perked up, "What do you have in mind?"

"We are going to do the same thing that we did when we couldn't figure out what Castiel was the first time around. We are putting every ward and sigil under the Sun – one of them is bound to stop him which will tell us what he is."

Sam asked what needed to be asked, "Is that going to even work?"

Castiel thought about, "Lucifer said that Harry was something new, but that is impossible."

Dean looked up, "Don't you mean unlikely?"

"No, impossible is the correct term. When God made the universe and everything in it, he also left blueprints for everything that will or can possibly be born into the world. This can only mean that whatever Harry is… it wasn't made naturally, let alone something that could have been foreseen."

Sam got up, starting to gather the necessary supplies, "well, when he comes back, we will have to ask. Sorry, rather than ponder, how about we get to it?"

* * *

 **(1) The entire chapter occurs during Season 5, Episode 10, "Abandon All Hope"**


	11. The Promised Meeting

**Chapter 11: The Promised Meeting**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Due to the detailed and informative review of 'Joe Lawyer,' I had to take down and modify the story I had written.**

 **Hopefully, I managed to correct any mistakes regarding the continuity of the 'Supernatural' universe.**

 **For all readers, please do tell me if I made an error that has to be correct - I am a stickler for details, but even I make mistakes.**

* * *

 _November 29th, 2009_

Dean and Sam were sitting on the couch, cleaning and tinkering with their guns, while Bobby sat behind his table, going through his books. He wasn't really reading them; its was just a reflex he developed over the years to calm himself.

Either that or resort to drink himself to death over the last few years.

The TV was playing in the background, more as white noise than anything else at this point. There was nothing but disasters and deaths in the last few days. The Winchesters didn't know what Lucifer was up to, but he was definitely preparing the Earth for his arrival.

That or something really _was_ in the air and it suddenly decided to rear its ugly head.

Castile teleported into the house, the Winchesters instantly standing and aiming their backup guns in the direction they heard the tell-tale sign of displaced air.

Even Bobby managed to get out his shotgun before noting the confused angel, "Dammit Castiel, where have you been?"

"I was traveling across the states, trying to determine what Lucifer's intentions are."

Dean just looked at the angel, "We already know what his intentions are – to start the freaking Apocalypse."

Castiel just looked at Dean exhausted, "I am aware of that. I was trying to figure out what his plan is. Since he does not have Sam currently as his vessel, he cannot attack his preferred targets indiscriminately. From what I can gather, he is currently trying to put Heaven into disarray."

Sam raised a brow as he returned to cleaning his guns, "How?"

Castiel looked down, "By sending a giant influx of new souls and prayers to confuse them."

Dean just chuckled, "I doubt that its just that reason that's holding them back from actually interfering."

Castiel nodded, "Do not speak of my family like that, Dean! Not all of my brothers hold the same inclinations as the ones in charge. They simply can not do anything about it. They see what is happening, but they are prevented from doing anything about it."

"Sure." Dean tried not to make that sarcastic, but his anger towards the angels who want to jump start Armageddon bled through. "Did the sigils and wards around the house give you any trouble?"

Castiel looked around the room, noting the new wards inside and outside of it. Bobby was against using real paint – it was his home – so they settled on a brand that could only be seen under black lights. It works just as well and could be later removed.

"Your efforts are impressive – there are more drawn here than when I first met you in that shed."

Bobby put on a smug smile, "I had time to do a lot of research when we were looking up the seals. I put in everything imaginable into this project. I even modified an angel ward only to allow you in. As far as I can tell, this is now the safest spot in the world. No supernatural creature can get to us within these walls."

There was a knock at the door.

Dean looked up, "Are we expecting anyone?"

Bobby shrugged, "Not that I am aware of. Castiel?"

"I have not sensed anything approach."

Another knock. Sam just looked at everyone in the room, "Should someone get it?"

Dean just went back to his gun, "Just ignore it. Pretend we aren't here."

Another knock was heard, "Little, little Pig, let me come in."

No one said anything while Dean just gave everyone confused look.

Another knock was heard before someone shouted, "I know you guys are in there. Someone better open this door before this pie gets cold."

Dena looked up, "Pie?"

He started going toward the front door before asking, "What kind of pie?"

"Apple – don't know what variety. I got it fresh from the bakery in town if that helps."

"Well then, I guess…"

As Dean opened the door, he saw who was standing on the patio.

In a plain black long-sleeve shirt, dark jeans, worn sneakers, and in a pair of square-frame glasses, stood Harry.

He did, in fact, have pie.

"So, are you going to invite me in or do I just walk in?"

Dean quickly put on his best poker face while smiling, "Why do you need permission? Can't you just teleport in?"

Harry smiled, "I am trying to be cordial and friendly here, but if you want to take the aggressive approach…"

Dean thought about it, "Fine, come on in."

Harry smiled as he handed Dean the box with pie in it – Dean confirmed it was apple before letting him in.

Sam looked up as he saw his brother enter the living room, "Who was it…"

Sam's pause made Bobby and Castiel look up to see who it was. While Dean – still keeping his eyes on Harry – was preparing the pie for himself in the kitchen, Harry just casually entered the living room, hands in pockets. He did stop on top of the carpet, looking around the room.

"Nice. There are a lot of stuff I've never seen before," he looked up at the ceiling, brows furrowing and pointing up, "Was the sigil against angels necessary? You already know I can track the Winchester even with the warding Castiel left on their ribs."

Sam thought about it, "That actually slipped my mind."

Harry smiled, "Sure." As he attempted to leave the rug, he felt a force holding him back. He looked down, through the carpet. Bobby noted his pause – it was momentary, like a tell. "Nice job with the Devil's Trap. Hope I remember to mention that to Crowley."

Harry walked through the circle boundary, but everyone caught his struggle to do so. It wasn't an actual effort – more like a choice by the individual to put more effort into the step so as to make noise.

Castiel looked confused as Harry sat down in the chair across the couch, "I ask you again, Harry: what are you?"

Harry smiled, "You want to ask that for the third time? Maybe I will tell you then."

Bobby raised his voice as he started wheeling himself away from his table, "Stop playing with us, boy. If you were of the Fey folk, the sigil in the hall would have stopped you by now. That or the crushed St. John's Wort buried in a circle around this house." (1)

Harry laughed, "Touché. How much did it cost to buy that much 's Wort by the way? I know a leprechaun causing havoc in Atlantic City that I want to get rid of for Crowley's birthday – guy's been nothing but trouble for him recently."

Dean came in to sit on the couch – pie on a plate, fork in the other hand – before he started the conversation, "So, first things first: the pie changes nothing."

Harry rolled his eyes, "It wasn't a peace offering. I was just being courteous – can't exactly enter a house without a gift for the ones living there."

"That's very… human of you."

"Should be – I am one."

Sam leaned forward on the couch, fingers interlocked, elbows on his knees, "Yeah, sure. You promised to tell us everything – are you planning to keep that promise?"

Harry crossed his arms and nodded, "You kind of left me no choice. And yes, I am – I keep my word; I am bound by my word. I also promise to take no action against you: while in this house, I ensure you will remain safe and unharmed during the duration of this peaceful assembly and information exchange."

Castiel approached the couch from the right while Bobby rolled up from the left. Everyone was on their ends of the house, two opposing forces.

Dean was eating his pie while studying the 'child' in front of him. If he didn't already know that Harry was a supernatural being, he wouldn't notice him. Almost five feet tall, he had somewhat long hair that was a sleek shade of black, and deep green eyes. His glasses looked geeky – odd shape or frame probably – but Dean noted they seemed to be prescription-less. Figured they were for appearance rather than functionality. His clothes looked basic – nothing anyone will note or remember. He had no watch, no noticeable body piercing or tattoos, and nothing in his pockets – he came in completely unarmed.

He was either stupid, trusted them, or not even afraid of being in their presence. He was strangely betting on the latter.

Dean put down his fork, "So, you mind telling us your name?"

"I already did – it's Harry."

Dean got a little annoyed, "I mean your full name."

Harry shrugged, "I don't know – never knew my family name, so it's just Harry."

"How old are you then?"

"I am nine."

Dean nodded, apparently impressed, "Wow, nine centuries old. That's old for…."

Harry laughed, "No, I mean I am nine. I was born in 2000."

Castiel just looked at him confused, "That is ridiculous. How can you possibly have so much power at such a young age?"

Harry just looked at the angel annoyed, "How did Jesse have so much power? I just do."

Sam got angry a little too quickly, "What did you do to Jesse?"

"Nothing. All I did was tell him he could do anything he wanted as long he kept to himself, so I recommended that he hide out in Australia for his own safety. I did all of that while you were talking downstairs in his house."

Dean was shocked by this revelation, "Is he safe?"

Harry nodded, "He is. I don't know if he is still there, but he is still alive – I would know. Well, technically, everyone would know. Besides, I have rules against hurting children or even using my powers on them."

The Winchesters and Bobby looked at Castiel, 'The death of such a powerful being would reverberate across the planet with the release of all the energies contained in it."

Harry pointed to Castiel, "Points for the angel in the John Constantine coat. Speaking of which, how are you feeling by the way? That was the first time I ever transferred energy into anyone."

"Yes, I am fine now. The energy was very foreign, but I managed to change it to suit my needs."

Harry nodded, "Yeah. It was tricky to separate the angel energy from my essence – some other stuff must have mixed in as well."

Dean looked at Harry confused, "What other energy can you possibly be mixed in there? You said you are a wizard. Speaking of which, what is a wizard?"

Harry breathed out, getting ready for a speech, "You know, I don't want to monolog, since its one of those things that cheesy villains do, but I guess it's necessary I'll violate my rules just for you. Let's start with the easy stuff. Witches and warlocks can be broken down into three classes. The are the 'Borrowers' who make deals with demonic forces. There are the 'Naturals' who are born with it. Then there are the 'Students' who learn it through practice and training. Now, people use spells and rituals on and off to take care of problems are none of the above since 'Students' take months or years of repeated magical exposure to become what they are. Although, a Hunter could become a 'Student' if they had the time or proclivity, like Mr. Singer other there."

Bobby looked a little flabbergasted at the notion of being called a warlock. Dean looked at Castiel for confirmation, "He is telling the truth, Dean. Although it is interesting to hear it summarized as such."

Harry nodded, "It's how Gabriel described it to me. Now, wizards are in the center of the three. They are born as 'Naturals,' they practice through life as 'Students,' and they 'Borrow' energy from the very air and earth around them. As a side benefit, their souls are uber-charge and fortified. If human souls are car brands from Acura to Volvo, then wizard souls are the freaking Transformers – or your Impala."

Dean caught his attempt at appeasing his vanity – he noted it for later. "How come we never heard of wizards?"

"There used to be more common, but at some point in the 16th century, they went into some deep hiding. And when I say deep, I mean 'beyond the veil' deep. They spend years preparing and with the spells they weaved, so even the likes of Gabriel couldn't find them. Some niche of creatures or specific gods can probably do it, but they will probably keep it to themselves. It's like they bent spaces in the world and made pockets for themselves. Some still live in the human world, and some are even born out of the ordinary humanity. But mostly, they stay hidden in their little magic lands."

Sam first to ask, "So what are you then? Cus' if a wizard is this powerful, shouldn't they conquered the world by now?"

Harry sighed, "Normally, this would be a quid pro quo situation, Clarice (2). Unfortunately, seeing as I know A LOT about you lot, let's keep question less personal – or else I will start asking them."

Dean laughed, "Easy there, Hannibal Lecter. Fine, how about… for every two of our questions, you get one?"

Harry leaned forward, "Let's not – some questions give away more information than others. How about we pretend we are educated individuals who are able to tell when an equal amount of information has been exchanged? We are all here in good faith."

Dean looked around the room, confirmed the nods, and nodded to Harry agreeing to the terms.

"Good. So, let's begin – you go first."

Dean nodded and started the interrogation.

"Are you a wizard or something else?"

"I was initially a wizard, but I am now part angel and demon as well."

"How?"

"Modified Essentia Commutationem Ritual – ask the angel what it is later."

"Why?"

Harry paused, "Sorry, but I don't really feel like telling that story."

Castiel interrupted, "I believe you will have to. The Essentia Commutationem Ritual was lost centuries ago and used to drain unwilling subjects to fuel spells or enslave them. The fact one was used on you means that you are an unwilling subject in the efforts of Crowley and my brother Gabriel. This means that anything you say can be held in contempt as you are possibly not in full control of your free-will and decisions. Unless you tell us why the ritual was used on you, anything you say – even your initial promise – will be false, including your statement regarding ending the Apocalypse. This means that if you attempt to leave this home, you will be relegated as our enemy and all possible future meetings will be on the field of battle."

Dean just looked at the angel in surprise, while Sam was openly gawking.

Harry was bug-eyed but managed to smile and recover, "Dean kept leaving 'Law & Order' for you to watch in motels, didn't he?"

The angel didn't deny it – he kept trying to look elsewhere, rubbing his neck in a tell-tale sign of discomfort.

Harry sighed, "Look, I am sorry, but despite what you believe, I own nothing but good-will to Crowley and Gabriel. They are the closest things I have to parents… Although that would make Crowley the mom and Gabriel the dad…Anyway, if this is such an impasse for you, I guess our meeting is at an end. I would really prefer no to violate the promise we have made but if you don't want to continue…"

Harry stood up from the chair and attempted to leave, but a something prevented him. "What the…"

Sam chuckled, "I thought so."

Dean looked at his brother, "What did you do?"

Harry pushed his hands against the barrier, akin to a mime pushing against empty air.

Castiel interjected, "I would like to know as well. He was immune to all the wards in this house. What did you use?"

Harry finally figured it out, "It wasn't a ward. It's under the chair isn't it, right? Small range – about 2 or 3 feet from the chair after initial contact, passcode deactivated?"

Sam smiled, "Right on all accounts."

Bobby whistled, "Just what in god's name did you use, boy?"

"It came to me when we were doing the kitchen wards. I wondered how he kept avoiding detection from everyone. I mean, they all sensed the magics he used at the scenes but not before hand? Seemed odd – unless you consider the option that until he uses magics, he is basically invisible to everyone. Granted, he could still be seen but who pays attention to a child? After Castiel had revealed how our memory was manipulated and what little you have given us, my hypothesis was correct – you're in flux aren't you?"

Harry gave a feral smile as San continued, "It was the only thing that made sense. Your essence may be a mix, but it's your magic that makes you untraceable. People always through around the phrase 'chaos magic' in fiction – but your just that, chaos."

Castiel looked at the Winchester, "Sam, what you speak of is ludicrous. Chaos is impossible to use or even master."

"I never said he uses it. It's more correct to say that he allows chaos to use him and in return, he is allowed to used the primal universal energy as fuel for the magics we are aware of. It's this use of different energy – or fuel – for his spells that allowed him to avoid detection. Think of it as using stem cells to do his work – the energy changes to fit situation but until then, it's impossible to distinguish. So, working on that assumption, I placed a simple containment ward inside a prison ward. The inner layer removes him from outside energies like a Faraday cage (3), and the outer ward keeps him inside like an actual cage."

Harry clapped his hands, almost nonchalantly, "Props to the smarter Winchester. You are partially correct as you only gave at best half an answer. In all fairness though, its more Scarlet Witch then Shadow the Hedgehog in regards to chaos control but that is neither here nor there. But for your efforts, I believe a reward is justified. However, you do something like that again, I will violate my personal beliefs just for you boys."

Harry paused, looking around before answering as Sam was dealing with the realization that he simply got lucky with his guess, "It's a rather personal story, so don't get paranoid if I leave certain details out, deal?"

After everyone had nodded, Harry continued, "I don't how, why, or when, but I was made into a cursed object. As you can imagine, that is just something that is not supposed to happen. I don't know if it was done by my birth parents or their enemies – I never bothered checking but more likely then not it was one of their adversaries. The relatives I was placed with fell victim to the effects of the curse, and my first six years of life were torture. Personally, the fact that my aunt spoke nothing but venom and acid of my parents makes my earlier statement regarding my predicament more likely – you don't say that about people who screwed up but rather those whose success you are jealous of."

Harry stood up and took off his shirt, allowing the everyone to get a good look at all of his scars and burns on his torso and arms. Even after all these years, Gabriel's healing still hasn't gotten rid of the injuries. Even Dean, hardened over time, winced at the sight of it.

Everyone was shocked by it, and Bobby was first to ponder, 'Were you…"

"Everything short of sexual abuse happened to me in that house. As you can imagine, when Crowley happened to come across me a few years back, I didn't even pause when he asked me to assist in torturing them. He assures me that they are still burning in Hell – he personally ensured it. Now, I won't tell you how Gabriel and Crowley are acquainted, but they were friendly enough to agree to take part of the ritual that cleansed me of all my evils. There were however…complications."

Castiel sat on the edge of the couch before saying, "Indeed. I can understand why they choose to use the ritual in its modified state – that was the best way to access your natural energies to remove the dark miasma from you. How bad was it?"

Harry put on his shirt and sat down, "The ritual itself was successful – the angel and demon essence mixed into my being, cleansed me of the curse… and other things… but it was the aftereffects that got to me… Do you remember the case you had about the people in Las Vegas who lost their emotions?"

Bobby perked up, "That was you? Those people were broken when they recovered."

Harry gave the old man a chuckle of indignation, "Last time I checked – which was recently – of the 24 people, only 1 killed himself; 3 died from natural causes, and the rest are on average, better off than they were before. Granted, a few got divorced but they remarried soon after. Besides, they recovered some of their emotions."

Bobby raised his brow, "You kept tabs on the people who you drained?"

Harry looked at Bobby, confused by the notion, "Just because I am no longer technically human, it doesn't mean that I don't own those people for what they 'offered' me."

Castiel got angry at that, "Your word choice indicates that you see yourself as a god…"

Harry went from cheerful to furious in a split-second as he stared at the angel, " _NEVER MENTION SUCH A NOTION EVER AGAIN IN MY PRESENCE!"_

Castiel's voice got caught in his throat, like a mute trying to talk. As the angel went to his throat, the Winchesters took out their weapons and pointed them at Harry, "What did you do to him?"

Harry slowly realized what happened before continuing, " _SPEAK."_

Castiel gasped out – heavily – before regaining his breath, "What…was…that?"

Harry calmed down as he breathed in and out, "That…was one of the ways I managed to manipulate circumstances to ensure the completion and delay of certain seals. Think of it as a 'Voice of Compulsion' – I just simply like to think of it as part of my natural abilities. Don't worry, though, I doubt any of you will ever fall victim to it now that you have seen and heard it so you can look for the tell. But back to what you said Castiel; never mention God in my presence. I lost all respect for him when he never answered my prayers."

"God works in mysterious ways…"

"God hasn't gotten involved with humanity in over a millennia, so don't spout that garbage to me."

Castiel flicked out an angel blade, ready to jump Harry, "That is my maker you are speaking against."

Harry smiled while Dean gave him a look, "Word of advice – don't piss off the nerd angel."

Harry continued smiling, "Word of advice to you, Dean Winchester – don't make me break my promises. You will come to regret it dearly."

Sam raised his hands in between Castiel and Harry, "Let's all calm down now. No need to kill anyone."

Castiel and Harry glared at each other, but the angel flinched first when he put away his blade.

Harry leaned back into his chair, "I don't want to be enemies with you Castiel – you are one of the few good angels out there. I just can't say the same for God – or most gods for that matter.

Bobby asked, "What do you mean?"

"I was educated about the Old Gods and the New God. Eventually, based on what I read and Gabriel's first-hand accounts, I realized that in essence, most were douchbags. There were a few rare exceptions of gods who were decent and did their jobs, but they were overlooked by the fuck-ups of their more well known tabloid family members."

Sam looked confused, "Like who?"

Harry smiled, "Well, let's look at the most well-known pantheon of Gods – the Greek. Of all of them, the only ones who got the raw end of the stick were Artemis, Athena, Hephaestus, and Hades – ESPECIALLY HADES (4). Seriously, when the rest of the gods were screwed up in one way or another, those four tried to make the best of a bad situation. The others may have had moments of redemption, but they were too rare and spaced out to be noticed."

Harry calmed down before sitting back down in his chair while the rest of the people got settled in, "Anyway… I am not a god or the God nor do I want to be thought as one. I simply want to live in peace with my family, away from all the chaos _ironically_. I don't want to be involved with the other hectic things that happen in the world. The fact that the Armageddon was upon us interfered with that, which is why I did everything in my efforts to ensure it wouldn't occur. It is because of this that I started the fall of the dominoes by marking Dean's grave."

Dean jumped out of his seat, "THAT WAS YOU?"

"Who else could have left that car and supplies close enough for you to use, as well as ensure that you and Bobby could find Sam?"

Sam looked at Bobby, realizing that they were being manipulated for a very, very long time.

"I guess you can figure out what I did after that, right? When I 'rescued' you from Zachariah's manipulations, you managed to remember that I always kept an eye you. That was because you were necessary for the end of the Apocalypse. It could have ended sooner if SOMEONE didn't kill Lilith," Harry said that while looking at Sam. "Do you know how bad of a migraine you gave me when you messed my plans up so badly? I had to give up my plans to go relaxing with the parents for redoubling my efforts in sealing up Lucifer and contain the Horsemen influence."

Castiel looked up, "Contain? What do you mean contain the Horsemen?"

Harry looked at the angel, "Look, I know you weren't around when the Horsemen showed up the first time, but do you think their zones of influence are supposed to be so small? Hell, the last time they showed up, they destroyed a whole nation just by their presence."

Bobby thought about, "He is right, but why haven't they…"

"Because they are arrogant megalomaniacs who would never admit that they don't have full access to their powers. Well, most of them anyway – nothing I could do about Death except try to prevent his summoning."

Sam perked up, "How did you do that by the way?"

Harry shrugged, "Wasn't that hard: all I did was create a wall of life around Carthage to prevent death from leaking in."

Dean just got flabbergasted at that, "How do you create 'life'?"

Harry laughed, "With assistance from a lot of Cupids, a lot of alcohol, and overall insurance that the towns and states around Carthage had a general feeling of positivity, safety, and… well… the feeling of life."

Castiel nodded, "That is why so many Reapers were called in – that was the only way so much positive energy could be counteracted."

Harry nodded, "Yeah… It seems like Lucifer finally caught on to the fact that my team was involved in trying to prevent his rising. He doesn't know who is on my side – or how many there are – which is a good thing since he didn't figure out that Crowley gave you the Colt. Speaking of which, where is it?"

Bobby rolled up to his desk from which he pulled out the Colt. Even from so far, Harry took a good long look as the old man moved back to his initial position, "I guess Gabriel was right – there are some things the gun can't kill. Did Lucifer mention what it can't kill?"

Dean shook his head, "No – he only said that there are five things in all of creation the gun can't kill."

Harry got surprised at that and began to take a closer look at the gun, activating his 2nd level of Sight.

Usually, seeing Harry's eyes undergo the color shift always scares newcomers – which it did. Dean and Sam jumped back in shock, Bobby nearly tipped over, and Castiel pulled an angel blade out of his sleeve - again.

What they didn't expect to see is Harry jump away from the gun, completely ignoring everyone else. "GET THAT THING AS FAR AWAY FROM ME AS POSSIBLE!"

Bobby realized that for the first time, Harry showed actual panic. He quickly rolled back to his table while Castiel and the Winchesters kept their eyes on Harry – who was doing is best to get as far away from the Colt as possible.

Dean was first to ask, "Okay, what the hell was that? What happened to your eyes? Did you see something in the Colt?"

Harry calmed down, turning off his Sight, before continuing, "My eyes? That was the second part of my natural abilities. Its what allowed me to avoid detection and manipulate situations to get to this point. I won't tell you how it works or how I got it. I will tell you that it gives me… special sight. Sight which allowed me to see the Colt in its true form."

Sam leaned forward, "And that is as…?"

"As a paradox."

Castiel looked at Harry confused, "As a paradox? Do you mean a temporal paradox?"

Harry nodded, "Yup. At some point in time, that… thing… becomes a paradox. I can tell you that initially, that was a magical gun, one probably made with the assistance of a wizard or with some forgotten magic. But at some point in that weapons past – or even its future – that gun ends up in the past, causing a temporal loop in its existence." (5)

Dean looked at Sammy, "What is he saying? Translate dweeb."

Sam got annoyed at his brother's comment but continued, "He means at some point that gun went all 'Back to the Future' by someone's hand, causing there to be TWO Colts at the same time. That or reality corrected itself, and made sure to cause the destruction of the older Colt at that point." (5)

Harry nodded, "My guess is that Dean does it."

Dean just looked at Harry before he was interrupted, "Look, knowing how you guys live, one way or another, that thing will either break, or you just need to go back in time to meet Samuel Colt for one reason or another."

Sam nodded, "He isn't wrong. You already have an unhealthy love of westerns, and since we don't know how to fix the Colt itself…"

"Don't overthink it, Sam, it doesn't help," interrupted Harry, "but please, don't make me touch it. My nature and that gun won't mix well."

Sam looked at Harry, "Are you that closely tied to chaos that a paradox would kill you?"

"Not just me – everyone in a three state radius. If I ever touch anything that has contradictory, paradoxical, or forced order on the universe – I am the next Krakatoa."

Bobby looked at Harry a little annoyed, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because Gabriel saw something similar with a meteor made of an alien mineral back in 1908."

Sam thought about it, "Wait…1908…was it in Russia?"

Dean realized what he was talking about, "Gabriel caused the Tunguska Event?"

Everyone gave a weird look, after which Dean replied, "It was a mysterious giant explosion – sue me for being interested. But seriously, what happened?"

"Long story short, Rasputin was, in fact, a Mad Warlock and not a Mad Monk. He tried to open a portal to summon something using a piece of a meteorite that he got out of a crossroad deal two years before. He figured the being he could have summoned would have gotten him out of his deal. But things happened and… BOOM! Only his contract kept him alive."

"Huh. What do you know? You learn something new every day."

Harry nodded to Bobby, "Speaking of which, how come you guys never use angel blades?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know you don't bring it up because of Castiel, but you have killed a few of his brothers, all who carried at least one angel blade, a weapon capable of killing MOST CREATURES. So… how come you never, you know, pilfer the goods for yourself?" (6)

Castiel coughed in understanding, "I believe I can explain."

Everyone looked at the angel, "Alright, I can not. The truth is that I just assumed that no human could wield an angel blade."

Harry laughed, "Seriously? What, did you expect them to blow up or something from holding your blade?"

Dean reached out his hand to the angel, "Give it."

Castiel looked slowly at the blade in his hand before tossing it to Dean, who caught it without issue. Dean checked it in his hand, "Seems like a regular dagger to me - although it does feel a little weird…"

Harry looked at the angel weapon, "That's because it is linked to your soul. Guess it needed something for fuel. Don't worry, though, the soul grows back, and it's not taking enough to cause significant damage – unless you have repetitive kills in a short amount of time."

Sam asked in confusion, "How many is repetitive?"

Harry thought for a second, "I want to say that the type of supernatural being killed will matter, but I believe that a human like Dean can kill about six angels in a single day with it. Sam can probably kill ten. Bobby – maybe two."

Bobby just looked at Harry in anger before the boy responded, "Sorry, but age is a factor, and Sam grew up on demon blood. You soul may be tough and resistant like an aged hide but face it, your broken. Still, an ordinary human can't even kill one being with an angel blade. It's probably why Castiel believed that the angel blade would kill you."

Dean looked confused, "Does that mean you can use it?"

Harry looked at the weapon, "I want to say yes but…" Harry activated his Sight's 2nd level again, taking a quick look at the blade before turning them off. "No, sorry, I am too much for a regular angel blade. A demon can use an angel blade, though, just for future reference. My essence would overload it with repeated use. Bullets made of angel metal is a different story…"

Bobby looked at the blade again, "You can forge these suckers into bullets?"

Castiel shook his head in disappointment, "Not unless you have access to something as hot as a volcano."

Harry thought about it, "Noted. Anything else you guys want to ask me?"

Bobby leaned up, "We have a list – mostly about how you manipulate both sides into breaking or delaying each seal."

Harry's smile changed into a frown, "Balls."

* * *

An hour past in the Singer home.

Most of that time was Harry recalling how he caused all the events that led up to this point. If it wasn't for his modified memory, he doubted he could have done that.

Everyone was exhausted from the ordeal, mostly Harry.

"Alright, I think we covered everything. Any last questions?"

Harry looked around the room. Castiel was just the observer, keeping his questions to himself and just listening. Bobby went through his list again to make sure they covered everything while Sam tapped his fingers.

Dean finished his third beer, put it down, and asked, "I got a question. How are you still alive?"

Harry stopped.

"You keep saying that you use the natural entropy – the chaos of the universe – to fuel your magic. But chaos can't be contained. I only got lucky with the ward I put under your chair. Also, we have been talking for an hour with no negative consequences for your well being despite being cut off from your power source. So basically… what gives?"

Harry got up and started passing in what little space he had, "Your logic isn't exactly flawed but it is limited. Your are only seeing the scientific half of entropy and not its more… metaphysical aspect so to say. Just follow this reasoning if it helps. Since entropy of the universe always rises, I will never run out of energy as long as I stay connected to the source of it per se. But since my body naturally takes that energy in to fuel my abilities, I can overload and die from said chaos if I am not careful."

"How do you die from chaos?"

"Take your pick – its chaos, the unpredictable nature of the universe. If the bad luck doesn't, then the poisoning would before I simply explode from excess energy."

Harry sat back in his chair, "My rules – my personal boundaries, morals and beliefs – are what put limiters on my powers to ensure that doesn't happen – that I don't lose control. Think of it like organized chaos: that within the disorder there is some sense of order. Granted, it makes me weaker since I am basically putting a tsunami through a high powered hose, but I am still stronger than most beings out there. I can willingly 'let go' and indulge the 'crazy' for a power boost, but it doesn't end well for me if I do – or for those around me. Besides, it makes me go cuckoo for coco-puffs for a while afterwards: think of it like a hangover on steroids and crack. But that doesn't mean that its easy even if I don't use chaos at all."

"Why?'

Harry sighed, "Every day is a struggle for me; chaos is primal, always acting on the basic urges present in everyone. With everything happening in the world due to the impending Apocalypse and the chaos I keep on tap, all the extra chaos will kill me with time if I don't let it out periodically. I am currently the only conduit that I know of that uses chaos, which means I am its only outgoing tap. With each passing week and eventually each passing day, I have to either use more and more magic everyday or intoxicate myself to the source to ensure that I don't die – I can't live like that. While letting the chaos flow through me is much more effective, the after affects are more… severe. And when I say flow through I am being literal, I don't call myself a conduit of chaos for shits and giggles: I literally become an Acolyte of Chaos if I decide to go down that rode and trust me, you do not want to be around me when I do."

Sam thought about it, "Does that mean that you are weaker than beings like Jesse and Archangels?"

"It's is better to say that they have the use of higher-tier abilities since they can manipulate reality and I can't – even with access to more of my energy supplies. However, I make up for it with having much more useful and diverse range of skills and abilities – as well as the use of spells and rituals. Also, compared to those beings, my energy reserves are significantly greater even if circumstantial based on the global circumstances. So on paper, anyone who can manipulate reality – or is an actual god - already seems stronger than me based on the givens. In reality, even in a straight up fight, I can hold my ground. If I release my limiters – even for a moment and if I am ready to deal with the consequence – nothing would remain of my enemy. But I will admit that at my current level of experience, skill, and knowledge, Gabriel can still easily beat me at full power – and he is the weakest Archangel, mind you."

Dean was about to ask something else before Harry interrupted, "Look, I am sorry, but I am divulging too much as it is. While there is other stuff regarding how my magic and body works and the dangers of me using my powers unregulated, there is nothing you can offer me in return for all the information I am giving you. So please, in good conscious, release me, please."

"Don't do that, Sam," interrupted Castiel before Sam could speak. "He is too dangerous to be released."

Sam looked at Castiel, "Cass, he told us everything – what else do you want from him? He kept his promise…"

"He is too dangerous."

Dean laughed, "I agree with you Cass, but if we keep him prisoner then we are no better than the monsters we fight. Besides, he promised he wouldn't harm us."

Castiel just couldn't agree, "It does not matter, Dean! You saw what he has done with minimal effort. Do you want to release this so called child into the world to do as he pleases? Do you think his so called rules will hold him back?"

Harry started laughing – like a supervillian, mind you – before he gave Castiel a look, "Castiel, no matter how weak I am in this ward, do you really think you can take me?"

Harry laughed again, "Angel, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash."

Harry slowly got up and walked to the edge of his ward, "I would like to remind you, angel, that I am a not decent man. I am not a righteous man like Dean nor am I a sincere and forgiving man like Sam. I am, however, an honest man who keeps his promises and remembers my debts. So let me give you a little warning for the future, CASTIEL – Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many."

Harry released the energy that he kept stored in himself in case of emergencies, creating a pulse that shattered and removed all the wards and sigils that the Winchesters and Bobby spend days making.

Dean looked at Sam in panic, but before Castiel could get this blade out again, Harry raised his hand and froze everyone in place.

"I am sorry for restraining you all, but I am afraid that I thought my life was in imminent danger. Honestly, I don't understand how you managed to survive so long with all creatures who have telekinesis and could easily snap your necks," Harry used his free hand to rub his temple, "However… since I broke the seal and violated my promise not to take action against you, I am at fault."

Harry dropped his hand, which allowed everyone to move again, "Again, I am sorry for restraining you. No hard feelings?"

Dean dusted himself off while giving Castiel a glare that caused the angel to look down in shame, "Don't worry about – it's already forgotten. Will we be seeing you again?"

"I want to say no, but that is unlikely given the circumstances we are in and the destiny you boys hold. No, all I can say with certainty is that I will keep my distance from you and not interfere in your lives more than necessary until the end of the Apocalypse."

"And afterward?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know – we become pen pals? (7) When the war ends, we keep to ourselves and stay out of each other's paths. I mean, I don't know, we can call each other for help, but I doubt that will happen since... you know… Crowley."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I see how that could be an issue." Dean rubbed the back of his head, thinking something over, "I guess it would be a good idea to keep in touch when this is all over. I mean, you are technically an honorary Hunter with everything you have done so I can't hate you for the friends you keep."

Harry nodded, offering his hand to Dean, "Shake on it?"

Dean was about to do so before asking, "I am not offering you my soul or anything am I?"

Harry chuckled, "No, this is just a handshake. No tricks, no gimmicks – just a promise to maintain our distance unless the situation calls for it… That, and a promise to keep in touch in the future."

Dean didn't budge, so Harry pulled out a pie out of nowhere to Deans surprise, "Will another pie change your mind?"

"Normally, I would ask if how you pulled that pie out of your ass but… it's pie. Plus, you behaved yourself… Bygones be bygones."

This was a momentous occasion when Dean shook Harry's hand – neither knew what would come out of this situation in the future.

Castiel was fully against it.

Sam was with his brother – but he still kept a though in the back of his head of how to contain Harry the next time they met.

Bobby was just glad that he no longer had to remove the invisible paint since Harry did it for them.

* * *

 **(1) While Fey only appeared on the show for the first time in Season 6, Episode 9, "Clap Your Hands If You Believe", the two facts I mentioned is something I found myself and not in the show.**

 **(2) "Silence of the Lambs"**

 **(3) A** real life **Faraday room or bag basically puts the item into a void zone against anything, so why not magical energies?**

 **(4) This is true. If you read the myths surrounding these Gods, Artemis and Athena were only dicks sometimes. Hephaestus and Hades though were outright screwed with. I would go into a lengthy discussion about this but I don't have the time. Hephaestus was born ugly and malformed so he was tossed off Olympus by Hera, his wife Aphrodite regularly cheats on him with Ares (and fathered NINE of his children), and he regularly gets back at his brothers and sisters for being douchebags (he was basically the Greek-version of Gabriel but without the candy). Hades was just dealt a bad hand. Ever wonder why they usually don't write about him, and when they do, he wins someway in the end? Because even the Greeks understood not to mess with death. Think about it – he gets the job of watching over the souls of the dead, handing out punishments and appropriate rewards, gets ostracized by most of his family for it, and resorts to stealing his wife for some semblance of happiness? If you are really **curios **, Jim Butcher does a wonderful job humanizing him in "Skin Game". Fun fact – do you know Cerberus is basically a fancy Greek way of saying Spot? That right, the king of hell calls his pet dog Spot.**

 **(5) Initially, this was my working theory regarding the gun since Dean** did in fact **drop the gun when he went back in time, however, this has recently been disproven by Season 12 of the show.**

 **(6) This is actually a good question regarding the show that I don't think is ever addressed. It doesn't say if the blades disappear with the angels when they die or other angels come in collect them – the team just usually leaves them behind after the kill.**

 **(7) Foreshadowing on my part between Dean and Harry, though I should mention**


	12. I Wear This Crown of Thorns

**Chapter 12: I Wear This Crown of Thorns**

* * *

 _February 17th, 2010 (1)  
_

 _It has been a few months since Harry last met the Winchesters. In keeping with his promise, the child had maintained his distance from them. He still worked in ensuring that Lucifer wouldn't get his claws on Sam, but he has been elusive since their initial meeting in Carthage. Even with the efforts of Crowley and Gabriel, Harry was having a hard time keeping track of the fallen angel's plans, stopping whichever he could make to in time._

 _The Winchesters weren't doing any better. The Wraith in Oklahoma was making Sam question why he was always angry and blamed everyone but himself for what happened with Lilith. (2)_

 _The "Freaky Friday" episode in Massachusetts did ease the boy's tensions – although Sam still hated Gary for what he almost did with his body – but they still felt played and toyed with by the demons. (3)_

 _The nail in the coffin occurred when Anna – the angel general who regained her grace – went all Glenn Close and tried to kill John and Mary back in 1978 to prevent Sam's birth (4). While the revelation that the Winchesters were direct descendants of Cain and Able – a fact Harry was already aware of through Gabriel, who already tried telling the boys – was not easy for them to take in. It seemed like 'Team Free-Will" were fighting an uphill battle._

 _Things were getting slightly better since the boys finally got the scent of Famine and were prepping for a confrontation…_

The Biggerson's Restaurant was not a scene you expected to see just a few days after Valentine's Day.

Just how often do you see people laying around dead from overindulgence and intoxication – with one guy dead from dipping his hands in boiling oil for the fries – due to a Horseman?

Dean was dragged in the main dining room by the demon goons, expecting to see exactly what he smelled. He did not expect to see a decrepit old man on a ventilator sitting a teched-out wheelchair with a Secret Service look-alike agents surrounding him.

He also didn't expect to see his buddy Cass on the floor eating raw meat.

The withered husk of a man looked up, "The other Mr. Winchester."

Dean gestured at Castiel, still held by the demons, bleeding from the forehead, restrained. "What did you do to him?"

Famine was too sickly to wave his hand at the hungry angel,"You sicced your dog on me. I just threw him a steak."

"So this is your big trick? Huh? Making people cuckoo for cocoa puffs?"

Famine huffed in indignation, "Doesn't take much-hardly a push. Oh, America-all-you-can-eat, all the time. Consume, consume. A swarm of locusts in stretch pants. And yet, you're all still starving because hunger doesn't just come from the body, it also comes from the soul."

"It's funny, it doesn't seem to be coming from mine."

Famine gave Dean a judging look, "Yes. I noticed that. Have you wondered why that is? How you could even walk in my presence?"

Dean smiled smugly, almost unaware how many demons had their eyes on him, "Well, I like to think it's because of my strength of character."

"I disagree," Famine moved closer to Dean and touched him, digging his hand into the Hunter, eyes closed while Dean winced in pain,"Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex."

Dean was already aware of all of this on some level, but Famine just confirmed it, "Oh, you're so full of crap."

"Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already... dead."

"Let him go."

Famine turned, expecting to see Sam at the front door entrance, as he intended by sending his goons to get him from the motel.

He didn't expect to see a child standing there, angel blade in hand, covered in blood.

Famine was confused by this sight, "Who... where is the boy? Where is Sam?"

"Back in South Dakota with Mr. Singer," Harry looked past Famine to Dean, "I am sorry Dean, but he got to the 'snack' Famine send him before I arrived."

Dean took on a defeated expression, "Sammy, no…"

Famine just looked around, "No, no, NO! Where is my sweet little boy? I had all these demons prepared for him to consume!" Some demons flinched at the hearing of that, "He was prepared! He was the exception that proves the rule…"

Harry looked at the dagger in his hand, "You know, most people take note of the guy in front of him holding the weapon. You don't usually see them ranting about their grand plans being foiled by a simple little nine-year-old kid."

Dean regained his smugness, but fear was still on his face, "Yeah, right…"

Famine looked at the two demons closest to the boy, "Get him! Get the child!"

As two agents ran toward Harry, two gunshots rang out, followed by two dropping bodies.

While Famine gawked at the sight of what happened, Harry just twirled around a customized Smith & Wesson Model 29 – however incredible the sight was, seeing how large the 'Dirty Harry' gun was to his hands.

"Evil Overlord Rule 75 - I will instruct my Legion of Terror to attack the hero en masse, instead of standing around waiting while members to break off and attack one or two at a time. Also, never bring fists to a gun fight." (5)

Harry stopped spinning the gun around, putting it and the dagger away, "Seriously, you are the Horseman of Famine. You are supposed to be the epitome of evil – not its cliches."

Famine looked at the child again, "You…what are you?"

Harry gave the old man a surprised look, "Seriously? Did Lucifer not tell you? Wow, I guess he is just using you guys rather than working with you. But seeing as how you are the weakest Horseman, that is expected."

Dean looked up in confusion, "What are you talking about Harry?"

Famine was enraged while Harry started explaining, "You see Dean, the Horsemen personified the four prime concepts that drive the Apocalypse – War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death. War is always free since violence and rage are always present in the world. The others do require a ritual to summon them – especially Death – but they are directly proportional in power to their presence. Death has only grown in power over the ages, especially with a growing population of humans and such, and Pestilence followed suit with the advancement of medical knowledge, genetic manipulation, and drug-resistant sicknesses. Famine, however, is a different story."

Harry paused to give Famine an evil smile, "Look at him, so decrepit and old, can't even get around without his lower-level demons serving as his aides and backup food supply. He may be present in parts of the world, but massive agricultural improvements have kicked his ass into essential nonexistence." (6)

Famine was furious, "I AM THE HORSEMAN OF FAMINE!"

Harry laughed, waving his hands, "You are in the land of overindulgence! Did you expect your presence to leave any kind of impact?"

Harry rolled up his sleeves, "Now how about you be a good little evil entity and give me your ring and the Winchester."

"Or what?"

Harry finished preparing himself, "Dean, if you would be so kind, can you please close your eyes? I rather not have you see what I am about to do?"

"Don' t need to tell me twice." Dean quickly closed his eyes as tightly as he could. "What about Castiel?"

Harry looked at the still eating angel, "He will be fine – mostly…"

Famine was fuming – he hated being ignored, "YOU ARE A CHILD! WHAT CAN YOU DO TO A HORSEMAN?"

Harry looked at the man, activating the Sight, his eyes becoming black, "How about I kill you?"

All that could be heard from outside were screams, and all that could be seen was – in all strangeness – the darkest light imagined. (7)

* * *

 _Bobby's basement – Later_

Castiel and Dean stand outside the metal door. In the panic room - Sam screamed, "Let me out of here, please! Help!"

Castiel saw the pained look on Deans face, "That's not him in there. Not really."

Dean nodded, taking another sip of the bottle, "I know."

"Dean, Sam just has to get it out of his system. Then he'll be…"

Dean shook his head, "Listen, I just, uh...I just need to get some air."

Before Dean left to enter the scrapyard, "Did you see what Harry did to kill Famine?"

Castiel looked up, "He didn't kill the Horseman – he just scattered his essence. As long as the force that represents them exists, they can always return one day in the future. The time in the future is determined by how much of their concept is left. And no – I was not in my right mind at the time. I have no recollection of what occurred after I entered the food establishment. My memory begins immediately after you and I were teleported back to this house by Harry. He then gave Bobby a ring and told us he removed the blood from Sam, but the damage has been done."

Dean took another sip of his bottle, "If he was watching us all this time, why didn't he stop the demons from getting to Sam?"

"He promised us that he would keep his distance from us – I can only deduce that Sam crossing the line and drinking blood again left him no choice."

"So, what? Did he expect me to be able to stop Famine on my own with five other demons in the room?"

Castiel looked down, "I don't know what the boy expected to occur. But if that were what would have occurred, he would have interfered one way or another. Maybe he arrived at your motel room too late and couldn't stop Sam from drinking. Perhaps he was too preoccupied with hindering Lucifer to get to us in time."

Dean gave the angel a look, "You do trust him, don't you?"

"While it goes against everything I should believe, the child has kept his word. He truly is doing everything in his power to make sure the Apocalypse doesn't happen – so yes Dean, I trust him. I believe him for as long as I can, given the situation we are in."

* * *

 _February 26th, 2010_

 _The raising of Death – or the actions of Lucifer – have caused the dead to rise in Bobby's hometown of Sioux Falls, South Dakota (8). Bobby – and Sheriff Jody Mills – tried to prevent the Winchester's from killing the zombies as they were their loved ones. Unfortunately, as the zombies turned savage, Bobby had no choice but to kill his wife Karen for the second time. The dead were put to rest in a pyre, but Bobby made a separate one for his wife…_

Outside Bobby's Salvage Yard, Sam and Dean join Bobby in front of the funeral pyre.

"So, thinking maybe I should apologize for losing my head back there."

Sam was first to speak, "Bobby, you don't owe us anything."

Dean put his hand on Bobby's shoulder, "Hey, look, I don't know squat from Shinola about love, but... At least you got to spend five days with her, right?"

Bobby became even more somber, "Right. Which makes things about a thousand times worse. She was the love of my life. How many times do I got to kill her?"

Sam twisted his lips, realizing they made a misstep, "Are you gonna be okay, Bobby?"

The old man nodded, "You boys should know... Karen told me why Death was here."

"What do you mean?"

"I know why he took a stroll through a cemetery in the sticks of South Dakota. He came for me."

Dean took charge of the conversation, "What do you mean, you?"

"Death came for me. He brought Karen back to send me a message."

Dean incredulously looked at Bobby, "You? Why you?"

"Because I've been helping you, you sons of bitches. I'm one of the reasons you're still saying no to Lucifer, Sam."

"So this was like a hit on your life?"

"I don't know if they wanted to take my life or... my spirit. Either way, they wanted me out of the way."

A voice spoke from behind them, "That is bull and you know it, you idjit."

The Winchesters and Bobby turned around as quickly as they could to notice Harry approach them – all in black – caring an odd ceramic jug.

Dean was first to ask, "What are you talking about? And where were you?"

Harry approached the fire, about to pour something on it, "In case you are wondering, this is special holy oil – Heaven can't exactly take in a soul that has been desecrated like this. Do I have your permission, Mr. Singer?"

Bobby had nodded before Harry continued. As he added the solution, the fire took on an odd glow, "I did the same to the other pyre, but… this is your wife and everything."

Dean nodded, "You didn't answer my question."

Harry sighed as he approached the Winchesters, "You were right, Mr. Singer – as usual. It wasn't Death's intention to do so. You see, Death is bound to serve Lucifer for as long as he has the power to do so."

Bobby slowly rolled up, "What do you mean?"

Harry put his hands in his pockets, "I don't know the full details, but Lucifer used some spell to bind Death into his service. Otherwise, the guy wouldn't have raised the dead – that's not his thing. And to answer your question Dean, I couldn't approach this town while Death was going through – he would have noticed me."

Sam looked confused, "Don't the Horsemen already know about you?"

Hary chuckled, "That's precisely the point – Lucifer may have told them to watch out for me, but I seriously doubt he told them how I looked or how to locate my magic. He is an arrogant prick who doesn't pay attention to such things – I mean, we mortals are insects to him."

"Sounds like you were just afraid." interjected Dean.

"Wouldn't you be? This is Death, the strongest of the Horseman and most likely the oldest being in all of creation. Heck, he was probably the third thing made, right after the Earth and Adam."

Bobby looked at Harry, "You have a plan to get his ring?"

Harry rubbed his neck, "I am working on it, but we probably won't need it – he will undoubtedly just give it to you guys without a fight."

Dean looked at the wizard, "Are you that sure?"

Harry looked down before answering, "I got to have faith that I am."

* * *

 _March 5th, 2010_

 _The Winchesters were killed – not for the first time – but now were now in the opportune moment to get to the Garden of Heaven to speak with Joshua, one who God talks to (9). While Zachariah did try to stop them from reaching the Garden via 'Axis Mundi' - the road through Heaven to the Garden – the Winchesters were saved by the intervention of Ash, a friend of Ellen and Jo who died before them in the Roadhouse, the bar they owned. While Zachariah did capture them and prepared to torture Dean so that he would accept Michael, a timely intervention of Joshua prevent him – or risk warranting God's wrath. It didn't end well for the Winchesters either, as their conversation with Joshua revealed some ugly truths. Joshua told Sam and Dean that God is well aware of their predicament, and that it was God who saved them when Lucifer rose, and resurrected Castiel, and has now given them salvation. Joshua says that God is on Earth, but that no amulet will help to find him. God, he said, doesn't want to intervene anymore in the Apocalypse, and He doesn't want them to either._ _Joshua returned Sam and Dean to Earth, with their memories of what they have learned intact. Castiel was devastated by the news of God's apathy, and returned the amulet to Dean before leaving. As Sam tried to offer hope to Dean that they can still defeat Lucifer, Dean left the motel room - dropping the amulet in the wastebasket as he did so._

Dean and Sam were driving in the Impala down the highway at night when they got a call. Dean checked the screen – unknown number. He looked at Sam, who shrugged and allowed him to answer.

"Yeah, whose calling?"

"Put me on speaker."

Dean raised his brow in recognition of the voice. He put the phone on the hangar before continuing, "Should I even ask how you got this number, Harry?"

The voice chuckled, "You would think you would know by now that I have my ways."

Sam nodded, "Why are calling us so late?"

"Because I got two things to say to you – one from me, and one from Ash."

"How did you…"

"I have my ways. Now first, from Ash. He wanted me to address something he mentioned to you about how Heaven works – about the 100 billion individuals are in Heaven. He wanted me to specify that religion is not the deciding factor for afterlife destinations – it's why about only 5% of people naturally go to Hell. Good news for you guys and all. However, since angels aren't made from humans like demons are, Hell always has a larger army compared to Heaven. It's the age old argument of quantity against quality, but even Heaven is susceptible to attrition. So while Heaven has more souls to use as energy, it's not like they will – unlike demons. Pass that on to Castiel when you get the time."

Dean had to agree with Harry regarding that point. No matter how strong an enemy, large numbers – like water – will weather any obstacle. "Okay, thanks – I guess. What's your message?"

"Roy and Walt have been dealt with. Their bodies will be found a few states over in a botched robbery attempt – on their part."

Dean got surprised, "They only killed us a few hours ago…"

"And I killed them soon afterward. Better then you getting your hands on them – at least I showed them mercy."

Sam chuckled while looking at a conflicted Dean, "He has a point."

Dean checked the road, 'Did they at least know that you killed them because of me?"

"They got the message – Crowley will rub it in just in case."

"I thought you said only 5% of people go to Hell."

"Only 5% NATURALLY go to Hell. But with demons and the contracts and the like, the number is actually much higher." (10)

* * *

 _March 20th, 2010._

 _Dean and Sam got involved with a group of survivalist in Blue Earth, Minnesota, who have managed to fight off demons thanks to the aide of their prophet, Leah Gideon (11). Unfortunately, due to the messages and rules she has laid down for the people, the Winchesters got worried and called in Castiel, who revealed that she is, in fact, the Whore of Babylon, a creature that manifests during the Apocalypse with the sole purpose of damning humans to Hell. Castiel explains that she can only be killed with a cypress branch wielded by a true servant of Heaven. The boys logically assume that Pastor Gideon is the only one who fits the bill and succeed in convincing him to kill his daughter's impostor, who is at that moment about to burn the "sinners" alive, including innocent children. Then her father fails, Dean kills her instantly, making Sam realize that Dean is considering saying "yes" to Michael, but Dean claims otherwise. However, Dean drives off to visit Lisa Braeden – the women who he believes fathered his son and his one love. He told her that, in an ideal world, he would want nothing more than to live in peace with her and Ben, but knows that this is impossible. He warned her that in the future, things are going to get really bad, but not to worry, because the people he is going to see next will not get anything from him unless they promise to make arrangements for their safety. Dean does not explain his intentions but heavily implies his desire to accept Michael's proposal._

Dean checked his phone as he approached his Impala. He had a long talk with Lisa, but he doubted she understood his message. Maybe he needed an ear to hear him out, maybe he just needed to vent to someone, it didn't matter.

It did matter when he saw Harry lean on his car, wearing a jacket similar to Dean's.

Dean snickered, "What are you, my guardian angel or something? You go wherever I go?"

Harry smiled, taking out a bottle of beer for Dean, "Something for your thoughts – from your personal guardian DEMON, if anything fits."

Dean smile faltered, but he reached for the beer anyway. Harry waited while the older Hunter drank his sorrow away. As Dean finished, he finally started the conversation, "So you heard about how I was able to kill the Whore, didn't you?"

Harry nodded, "I want to say that it is because you are a righteous man, but yeah… some part of you – a large enough part – wants to say 'yes' to Michael."

Dean nodded, "Yeah. How far the mighty have fallen, isn't it? All we are trying to do is bring about world peace, but I will have to sell my soul to do so."

Harry outright laughed, "I believe it was Leonard Nimoy who said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. But seriously, who are you kidding? You just wanted to end the Apocalypse to save your family."

Dean looked at Harry, "Same for you?"

The boy nodded while Dean continued, "So how is it that a nine-year-old grew big enough cajones to mess with the likes of angels and demons? Always seemed somewhat odd to me – makes you look like Damien Thorne."

"We are quoting 'The Omen' now, aren't we?"

Harry gave Dean a look, but the Hunter didn't break. Harry sighed befoe continuing, "When you think about it, we aren't so different. We want to save our respective families from the Apocalypse, and we are willing to do whatever it takes to do so. We both gave away our souls one way or another. Our only difference is that you had a chance for a childhood – no matter how dangerous it was. Me, I didn't have that option. My first six years of life were unspeakable, I killed my last remaining relative the moment I was given a chance, and I spend the next few years training myself so that I would never be that sniveling broken child hiding underneath the stairs from those bigger and stronger than me."

Dean stared silently as Harry continued, "The worst part is that it's probably all a big farce on my part – a show of bravado. I feel it every time I take a life – it isn't in my nature to end someone's being. Doesn't mean I won't do it, I have no qualms regarding that – just feels wrong. You don't have that problem Dean. You are the righteous man – your judgment is absolute. Whatever guilt you may have for your actions – it doesn't haunt you like it does me or the likes of Sam."

Dean was about to interrupt, but Harry continued, "Oh sure, you make a scene out of it from time to time, pretending to drink your problems away and losing your worries with the girls but that's just a show for Sam. No, you don't feel it gnaw away at you since you truly believe your actions are justified. Sure, you have your bad days, but you get over them eventually. I mean, you and Sam have killed supernatural beings of true malice, but you have taken a human life or two. Sam never seems to forget that yet you just seem to compartmentalize it all. And yes, Famine claimed that your soul is an empty void. The thing is, souls grow back and everyone has a chance for redemption."

Dean gave Harry an odd look, "Yeah, it's an odd thing to hear from the likes of me. But that is one the main tenants of religion, isn't it? The chance to make up and be forgiven for your sins?"

Dean just looked at Harry in confusion, but the child went on, forcing a smile, "You and Sam always redeem yourself whenever you save a life or kill a being of evil. So no matter what sins you do carry out – like credit card and medical insurance fraud – in the end, you always come out positive. Me, I don't have that choice, not even with Gabriel at my side – he got rid of that option before human recorded history. I mean, even if I do have a hand in preventing the Apocalypse, you four will get the credit – well, three, if Bobby isn't there."

Harry just laughed more, "God, I wish I was old enough to drink. Its days like these that I feel it gnawing at me. You know I had to attack an angel outpost on Earth so that there would be fewer guards while you two were in Heaven? I had to kill two angels – which I don't care about… but that also means I killed two humans who gave up their lives by saying 'yes' to them (12). Using a vessel is such an irony – humans have to give up the one thing that made them unique to God to use one of his agents. Makes you think, what is free-will actually worth if both angels and demons fight for it more then the soul?"

The child – as Dean finally saw him for what he was – leaned on the Impala, "Guess I needed to vent today as well. You are the closest thing to a saint walking on this planet that I know of, so I suppose this counts as a confession."

Dean waited before opening the front seat door for Harry, indicating for him to sit in. After he had done so, Dean sat in the driver seat. Dean turned on the lights but not the car, "Think of this Impala as a confessional – just without the wooden partition."

Harry realized what Dean wanted, but Dean held up his hand, "You know, Crowley and Gabriel – and you, I guess - have joked on and off that you do things behind our backs so we can carry out our 'assignments.' Never really given it much thought – I mean, Castiel never says anything, even when he still worked for the angels. But… seeing you back in the diner, and this," Dean waved his hand, "Can't help but feel that you are trying to carry the sins of humanity on your shoulders."

Harry looked at his fidgeting hands, while Dean finished his beer, "Maybe you should share some of that weight, like with someone who can deal with the guilt and hear you out. I mean, I always considered this Impala to be my personal church if that helps."

Harry looked Dean, some semblance of peace finally appearing on the child, his shoulders slouching. Dean watched as Harry made the Sign of the Cross – the Hunter noting the irony of a demon-like child doing so – before he spoke, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was… never. I am not a religious man, but I have sinned… I have sinned so much..."

Harry leaned forward, putting his head in his hands, but Dean just put his hand on the child's shoulder, "Take your time, we have all night."

Harry nodded slowly, "My first sin - if it counts - was in August of 2006… when I killed my aunt and her family…"

* * *

 _March 25th, 2010 (13)  
_

 _Zachariah got another chance to get Michael's vessel to say 'yes,' so he resurrected Adam Milligan to take Dean's place, seeing as they share the same father. The Winchester's try to convince him otherwise, but the angels have given up on Dean and promised Adam the resurrection of his mother. Adam manages to escape and get to Zachariah in Van Nuys, California, but the Winchesters and Castiel follow them to the Green Room. Adam, after his surprise that Dean came for him, tells him it is a trap. Zachariah appears, and Sam tries to stab him from behind, but Zachariah makes him and Adam fall to the floor and cough up blood. Dean asks him to stop and says he will in exchange for Dean saying 'yes.' Zachariah calls Michael down from Heaven with an Enochian chant, but Dean says that he has some conditions - including Michael wasting Zachariah. After sharing a look with Sam, Dean stabs Zachariah through the mouth with an Angel Killing Sword, finally killing him. He gets Adam up and rushes to help Sam before Michael arrives. But as soon as Sam and Dean pass the threshold, the door slams shut, locking Adam in, to Dean's horror. Back on the road, Sam asks Dean why he changed his mind about saying 'yes.' Dean explained that Sam had faith in him, and he couldn't let Sam down. Also, he tells him how his talk with Harry made him reconsider fate and destiny. As such, Dean agrees to screw destiny, and they will keep on fighting._

* * *

 _March 29th, 2010 (14)  
_

 _The Winchester's get stuck in the Elysian Fields Hotel in Muncie, Indiana, by a group of gods, made of Kali, Baldur, Baron Samedi, Ganesh, Odin, Mercury, and Zao Shen. They wish to stop the Apocalypse and plan on using the vessels of Lucifer and Michael as bargaining chips benefit them greatly – especially since they have human hostages to prevent Dean and Sam from leaving. However, Gabriel turns up at the meeting, who the gods know as Loki and don't realize he is an archangel. While events transpire to save the hostages and break Kali's blood spell on the Winchesters, Lucifer arrives and kills most of the gods, when Gabriel intervenes…_

Odin screamed outside the Grand Ballroom as Lucifer killed him, which was followed by an exploding Ganesh in a burst of blood and chunks of flesh. Lucifer then broke Baron Samedi's arm, somehow killing him through the sheer force of the action.

Sam, Dean, Kali, and Baldur heard it all, with Sam speaking, "It's him."

"How?" asked Kali before Dean interrupted, " Does it matter? Shazzam us outta here, would ya?"

"We can't," admitted Baldur.

Lucifer chuckled as he heard that statement, "Of course you can't. You didn't say 'mother, may I?' Sam, Dean, good to see you again."

Baldur started charging Lucifer while Kali tried to stop him, "Baldur, don't."

"You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?"

Baldur tried to confront Lucifer, but he stabbed him, ripping him apart from the inside with his bare hand, killing him in the end. Lucifer smiled, "No one gives us the right, we take it."

As Lucifer threw Baldur to the ground, Kali became enraged, engulfing her arms in fire which she threw at Lucifer, causing Sam and Dean to jump for cover behind an overturned table. The flames dissipated, revealing no damage to Lucifer's vessel, who went on to hit Kali with an uppercut to the chin, sending her flying.

Sam asked Gabriel, "You okay?"

"Not really. Better late than never, huh?" Gabriel hands Dean a copy of 'Casa Erotica #13' on DVD, "Guard this, with your life."

Lucifer was about to stomp on Kali but was blown back through the Grand Ballroom doors.

Gabriel stands, sword in hand, "Lucy, I'm home." He picks up Kali and tosses her to the Winchesters, "Guys! Get her outta here."

Lucifer stared in awe at his younger brother as the Winchesters escaped with Kali, "Over a girl. Gabriel, really? I mean I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn't catch anything."

"Lucifer, you're my brother. And I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks."

Lucifer was caught off-guard, "Wait, what did you just say to me?"

Gabriel pointed with his dagger, "Look at yourself! Boo hoo! Daddy was mean to me, so I'm gonna smash up all his toys."

Fury was on Lucifer's face, "Watch your tone."

"Play the victim all you want. But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best. More than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home, and you couldn't handle it. So this is all just one big temper tantrum. Time to grow up."

"Gabriel, if you're doing this for Michael..."

"Screw him. If he were standing here, I'd shiv his ass too."

"You disloyal…"

Gabriel laughed, "Oh, I'm loyal. To them!"

"Who? These so called Gods?"

Gabriel spread his hands, "To people, Lucifer. People"

Lucifer smiled, "So you're willing to die, for a pile of cockroaches. Why?"

"Because Dad was right. They are better than us."

Again, the tempest of Lucifer's fury arose, "They are broken. Flawed! Abortions."

"Damn right they're flawed. But a lot of them try. To do better, to forgive. And you should see the Spearmint Rhino! (15) I've been riding the pine a long time. But I'm in the game now, and I'm not on your side, or Michael's. I'm on theirs. I am on my family's side."

"Brother, don't make me do this. I am your family – not these insects."

"No one makes us do anything. Or did you forget that humans have free-will? I think I discovered it as well, all my time among them and all. Being an uncle helped even more."

Lucifer looked at Gabriel confused, "An uncle, you?...The boy, he is yours, isn't he?"

Gabriel smiled, "He is such a nice little kid – but your actions have hardened him too much for my taste. No, he isn't a killer, not like me, not like the Winchesters. Harry was always meant to be a guardian – an agent of chaos sure, but a protector nonetheless. His actions to stop you are slowly breaking him and I can't allow that. It has to end, if not for humanity's sake, then for his…"

"I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel. But I know where your heart truly lies."

Over Lucifer's shoulder, a second Gabriel comes up behind him. As he lunges forward, Lucifer catches his arm and stabs Gabriel's own sword into his chest.

"Here. Amateur hocus pocus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."

Lucifer jerks the blade in Gabriel's chest. In a burst of light, Gabriel dies, with a shadow of his wings burned into the floor.

* * *

 _After their escape, Sam and Dean played the DVD Gabriel gave Dean. In it, Gabriel tells them they may be able to re-imprison Lucifer, and that the keys to his cage are the rings of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, of which they already have from War and Famine._

 _Back at the hotel, however…_

Harry walked through the Grand Ballroom, trying not to step on the blood of the dead gods. He did feel sorry for Baldur; he sought to redeem himself in the end. Others – not so much.

Harry walked up to Gabriel, who was still lying on the floor, unmoving since Lucifer killed him hours ago.

"You going to play dead much longer or do I have to kick you?"

Gabriel looked at Harry, shattering the illusion, and getting up. "Lucifer may have taught me everything he knew, but this is the rare case of the student surpassing the master."

Harry crossed his arms, "Just be glad the triple bluff worked and that Lucifer was too prideful and arrogant to check that you were actually dead."

Gabriel dusted himself off, "Did the Winchesters watch the DVD?"

"Yes. They got the information we found regarding his cage. You know, we didn't need to remove you from the game board to give them the information."

Gabriel shook his head, "We had no choice – if they had the information and Lucifer knew that I was on their side, he might have taken action to kill Dean and force Sam's hand."

Harry sighed, "I really hate these delay tactics, but I see your point. You realize you can never talk to those two ever again?"

"A small sacrifice to pay to ensure the end of the Apocalypse."

Harry nodded, giving Gabriel an envelope, "Crowley found some locations where Pestilence has been. We need a way to track him down."

Gabriel checked the locations, "Have you considered finding his stable boy?"

"Guess that's going to be your assignment. Feel like going undercover?"

Gabriel smiled, "Do you even need to ask the Trickster?"

* * *

 _April 14th, 2010_

 _Sam and Dean tried to track down Pestilence by tracking down his operations to modify the Croatoan virus (16). They get called out east due to omens, but Crowley joined them in the Impala, admitting he is hiding since Lucifer knows he gave the Colt to the Winchesters in an attempt to kill him. Crowley revealed he had a magical coin planted in the Impala and had been tracking and eavesdropping on Sam and Dean for some time – even without Harry's aide. He knows a demon who works for the Horsemen and thinks they can get him to help them. As they get ready to go, Crowley refuses to let Sam come with them. Dean hesitates, but decides to go with Crowley to get the demon, as Sam has recently gotten the idea of saying 'yes' to Lucifer to force him into the cage. Bobby angrily dismisses the idea, saying they had just talked Dean out of consenting to possession by Michael. Crowley and Dean managed to capture the Horseman's stable boy – a man named Brady who went to college with Sam. Azazel had been concerned that Sam was losing his potential and so Brady introduced Sam to Jess and subsequently murdered her, with the plan that her death would drive Sam back to hunting. Events transpire until Brady finally revealed Pestilence's whereabouts and died by Sam's hands._

 _Bobby, on the other hand, kept trying to find out where Death would be. Crowley appears at Bobby's house and tells Bobby he can give him Death's whereabouts in exchange for Bobby's soul, temporarily. Crowley tells him that it will only be for a short while and that he will give Bobby back his soul._

* * *

 _April 15th, 2010_

 _Dean and Sam travel to Davenport, Iowa in search of Pestilence. Dean and Sam locate him at a convalescent home killing patients, doctors, and nurses. As they get closer to the Horseman, they too become sick, and their sickness greatly escalates as they get closer to Pestilence due to the power of his ring. He is about to kill them when Castiel appeared, claiming that he was transported here by a bus, as he is now effectively human again since he had no power left since he was recharged by Harry. The Horseman verbally acknowledges that Castiel isn't a full angel anymore but in his desperation to defeat the Horseman, Castiel cuts off his ring-finger, effectively disabling his essential capabilities, weakening him enough to be killed by the angel._

 _Dean, Sam, and Castiel returned to Bobby's house with Pestilence's ring, where Bobby reveals that Chicago is going to be blown off the map by Death. They question where he got that information, forcing Crowley to appear and at his request, Bobby reveals that he sold his soul for Death's location. Dean and Sam are furious at Bobby, but Crowley admits that he pawned it instead._

 _A plan is set to split the group in two to deal with Death in Chicago and with Pestilence's 'swine flu' epidemic. Dean and Crowley will go to Death to make sure he doesn't blow up Illinois while Bobby, Sam, and Castiel will stop the virus outbreak. (17)  
_

 _Speaking of which…_

Outside Bobby's house, the crew is having their talk before Team B gets into the van to go to Niveus Pharmaceuticals Warehouse.

Bobby looked up Castiel from his wheelchair, "What's your problem?"

"This is what they mean by "the 11th hour," right?"

Bobby shrugged, "Pretty much."

"Well, it's the 11th hour, and I am useless. All I have is this," Castiel waves a shotgun, "What am I even supposed to do with it?

"Point it and shoot."

Castiel looked depressed, "What I used to be…"

Bobby glared at the angel, "Are you really gonna bitch - to me? Quit pining for the varsity years... And load the damn truck."

Dean walks in carrying the supplies to the van, "All right, well... Good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse."

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Good luck killing Death."

"Yeah."

Sam looked on the van, smiling, "Remember when we used to just...hunt wendigos? How simple things were?"

"Not really."

Sam pulls out Ruby's knife, "Well, um... You might need this."

Crowley looked over Dean's shoulder, "Keep it."

Crowley quickly hands Dean a small scythe, "Dean's covered. Death's own. Kills, golly, demons and angels and reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself."

Castiel stared in awe, "How did you get that?"

"Hello - king of the crossroads."

Everyone just gave Crowley a look, before he finally succumbed to pressure, "Fine, Harry found it buried in some ancient temple in Greece."

Dean looked at the demon, "Greece? Why Greece?"

"It was a temple of Hades – the Greek God of Death and the Underworld."

"Ah, never mind then."

Crowley nodded, "So, shall we? Bobby, you just gonna sit there?"

Bobby scowled, "No, I'm gonna riverdance."

Crowley just snickered, "I suppose if you want to impress the ladies. Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted that crossroads deal. Fact - you get more if you phrase it properly. So, I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub-a clause on Harry's behalf – for a promise he made a long time ago. What can I say? I'm an altruist, and Harry does keep his promises. So… just gonna sit there?

As realization dawned upon the old man's face, Bobby slowly got out of his wheelchair, "Son of a bitch."

"Yes, I know. Completely worth your soul. I'm a hell of a guy."

Bobby was nearly speechless – nearly, "Thanks."

"This is getting maudlin. Can we go?"

* * *

 _Later, during the drive in Bobby's van_

Castiel was pondering what he just heard from Sam, "'Yes' to Lucifer. Then jump in the hole. It's an interesting plan."

Bobby snarled from the front, "That's a word for it."

Sam went on, "So? Go ahead and tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard."

"Of course. I am happy to say that if that's what you want to hear. But it's not what I think."

"Really?"

Castiel nodded, "You and Dean have a habit of exceeding my expectations. He resisted Michael. Maybe you could resist Lucifer, but there are things that you would need to know."

"Like?"

"Michael has found another vessel."

Sam couldn't compute what was said, "What?"

The angel nodded, "It's your brother Adam. You must have considered it."

"We were trying not to."

There was discomfort in the air, but Castiel continued, "Sam... If you say yes to Lucifer and then fail... This fight will happen. And the collateral... It'll be immense. There's also the demon blood."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Castiel started doing the calculations, "To take in Lucifer, it would be more than you've ever drunk."

"But... Why?"

"It strengthens the vessel. Keeps it from exploding."

Sam started considering the implications, "But the guy he's in now…"

Castiel nodded, "He's drinking gallons."

Bobby whistled from the front, "And how is that not the worst plan you ever heard?"

* * *

 _While the trio was involved in their act of domestic terrorism at Niveus Pharmaceuticals, killing zombies, saving the non-infected, and destroying the 'vaccine' stored in the warehouse, Crowley and Dean were searching for Death. Eventually, Crowley managed to find him in a pizzeria somewhere downtown. All they had to do was find a pale 1959 Cadillac Coupe Deville. Why that one? Because it had a California license plate that read BUH*BYE._

Dean entered the pizzeria as quietly as he could. Death's back was to the door, eating something. As Dean approached Death, the scythe in his hand heated up. Dean winced in pain, dropping it. But instead of falling to the floor, it reappears on the table Death was sitting at.

Dean was screwed six ways to Hell – and he has already been there.

"Thanks for returning that. Join me, Dean. The pizza's delicious. Sit down. Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you."

Dean slowly approached the table, taking a good look at Death. Unlike his reapers – which are usually dressed as morticians – Death was dressed in a dark business suit. He had a steel-tipped cane and was very thin. He had overly large pupils that expanded like the sockets of a skull depending on his mood. He also had a British accent – it wasn't haughty either, just British.

If the Grim Reaper needed to be English, then this guy fit the bill.

Dean tried his best not to piss off Death, "I got to say - I have mixed feelings about that. S-so is this the part where... where you kill me?"

Death calmly looked up at Dean from the pizza slice he was cutting up – you can't exactly hand eat a deep dish pizza. "You have an inflated sense of your importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well... Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you."

Death gestured to the Chicago pizza that he put on his plate, "Eat."

Dean takes a bite of the pizza. "Good, isn't it?"

Dean had to agree – it was pretty good. As he finished chewing, "Well, I got to ask. How old are you?"

Death didn't look insulted by the question, "As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless - in the end, I'll reap him, too."

Dean nearly choked on his pizza, "God? You'll reap God?"

Death was in agreement, "Oh, yes. God will die, too, Dean. "

Dean breathed out, realizing how screwed he was, "Well, this is way above my pay grade."

Death made an insignificant smile, but a smile nonetheless, "Just a bit."

Dean swallowed anxiously, "So, then why am I still breathing, sitting here with you? Uh...w-what do you want?"

Death slowly put down his utensils, "The leash around my neck - off. Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."

"And you think... I can unbind you?"

Death looked annoyed at Dean, "There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this."

Death held up his ring while Dean nodded, "Yeah."

"I'm inclined to give it to you."

"To give it to me?"

"That's what I said."

"But what about..." He pointed outside.

Death turned around to look into the streets, "Chicago? I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza. There are conditions."

"Okay. Like?"

Death held up the ring, "You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell."

Dean nodded, "Of course."

"Whatever it takes," emphasized Death.

Dean went on, ignorant, "That's the plan."

Death shook his head, "No. No plan. Not yet. Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one."

Dean started to recognize where the conversation was going, "What, you think…"

"I know. So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit. Well, do I have your word?"

Dean took on a look of defeat, but he still agreed, "Okay, yeah. Yes."

Death handed Dean the ring, "That had better be a 'yes,' Dean. You know you can't cheat death. Now, would you like the instruction manual?"

* * *

 _Dean spend some time with Death until he finished explaining how the ring worked – which didn't take long, but it seemed to last for eternity._

Dean slowly got up, doing his best still not to offend Death, "So… I will see you around?"

Death shrugged as he kept eating his pizza, "Let's not. I expect you to free me in the near future. If you don't, I won't be fair when you do die."

Death gave Dean such a look that Dean might as well have seen his life flash before his eyes, "Alright, alright. We will stick to Sam's plan. Just... don't scythe me, okay?"

Death smiled and snickered while Dean left the pizzeria.

It was quiet in the pizzeria again.

For about 30 seconds.

The bell on top of the door rang again. Death sighed, "You know, I was as succinct as I could, Dean. Honestly, how thick headed…"

Death didn't expect to see what he did - a child pulled himself a chair in front of him.

Death took a good look at who was in front of him, "Well… this is unexpected."

The child smiled, "Indeed." He put out his hand, "My name is Harry, Mr. Death."

Death gave a judging glance on who was in front of him. To him, it was a mere pre-pubescent child wearing dark colored clothing, leaving as little skin revealed as possible. His black hair was combed back, nails perfectly manicured yet hands callus from hard, consistent work. He quickly checked the eyes behind the glasses – his dark green eyes.

His smile was innocent, but his eyes were that of a predator.

Death tried to figure out what he was, but Harry interrupted, "Mind if I take a slice? It took a lot to find you."

Death shrugged and went back to eating his slice, "Go ahead."

Harry smiled again as he took a slice.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Harry wiped his face, "So, you are probably wondering who I am…"

"The thought has crossed my mind."

"I could go into a long monolog regarding my life story, going into details as to how I have been initially trying to prevent the Apocalypse and now trying to stop it. Honestly, though, I think a picture is worth so much more."

Harry turned on his Sight, carefully watching Death's reaction – or lack of one.

If the thin man ever played poker, he would give Sam a run for his money.

"Haven't seen those for a long time. Not since God smacked them out of Uriel."

Harry blinked and turned them off, "You are probably one of the few people who knows what these things are called – I just call it the Sight."

Death nodded, "Simple enough. _Verum Coram_ seems more accurate, but it is all encompassing (18). How exactly did you get your hands on those?"

"Modified Essentia Commutationem Ritual."

Death looked up, with some semblance of surprise, "Indeed? How exactly did you know it?"

"I didn't – I was just a cursed object that was found by a demon and an archangel who cured me of my affliction."

Now Death was intrigued. "My, my, aren't you an original piece… Who was it, Gabriel?"

Harry nodded, "Was he such a scoundrel even back then?"

"Better to say that he was more in touch with his innocence and had a much wider perspective than his brothers. Oh, his brothers furious when he left – they got rid of Atlantis in their anger." (19)

Harry paused mid-bite, "That was real?"

Death raised his eyes, "It wasn't as advanced as rumors made them out to be, but they were better organized than most. They didn't believe in anything, though – made them legitimate targets for Michael."

Harry nodded, "Must have eaten at him for a while, didn't it?"

"Wouldn't know – I was locked away by that point in time. But that still brings up the issue why you are here."

Harry shrugged, "Maybe I needed someone to talk to. Maybe I needed to be make sure that Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Castiel survive their encounter with Lucifer."

Death slowly put down his utensils, "If you know what I am, then you also know my policy regarding bringing back the dead."

Harry smiled, "I never said anything about resurrecting the dead. No, no, not at all. But rumor has it that even God can't hide from you."

Death stared silently while Hary continued, "It wouldn't cost much to get a message to the man to pay attention to the boys on a certain day at a certain time – you know, just to make sure nothing bad happens."

"He has already interfered with them before, and based on what I heard, he isn't in a generous mood to do so again."

Harry still smiled, "Doesn't mean an exchange can't be made... just to make sure things go a certain way."

Death leaned back in his chair, "What do you have to offer that I will actually consider accepting? You are not tied down to this world in the grand scheme of things, nor can you offer your soul to me as a bargaining chip – whatever original part of it is left."

Harry chuckled, "Who said anything about my soul? No, I am willing to offer my body and time to make sure the boys succeed."

Death considered this, "Why? Why help them out at all?"

"Because it is their destiny to save the world. They have been born and made for it. It is not my fate to help them in the incoming fight. Great men are forged in fire, but it is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame." (20)

Death thought about it, "Truly, you would do this? You would offer anything to make sure they succeed? Didn't know you were such good friends with the Winchesters."

Harry put out his hand, "Not really for Sam and Castiel, but Dean… let's just say he heard me confess my sins and forgave me for them."

"Ah, to be forgiven by a righteous man is quite a thing indeed." Death looked at the child's hand. "You realize I can't promise you anything. Whatever price I do claim from you won't guarantee that God will help them out."

"I think he will – they probably met the guy already and made a good enough impression." (21)

Death smiled, "You are a devilish bastard, aren't you?"

"Hopefully, when this is all over, I will have time to reflect and actually be a kid for the first time in my life."

Death shook his head, "No, I seriously doubt that. It isn't in your nature to stand idly by when wrongdoing occurs, despite your part-demon nature. Besides, I think your adventures with destiny are just getting started. They will take you far from the Winchesters, but you will still have a role to play."

Harry tilted his head, "I guess I now have strings on me?"

Death nodded, "Indeed." Death shook Harry's hand, a pulse of magic passing by between the two. "The deal is struck – you will know the price for this when it happens. I hope fate is merciful to you for when it comes."

Harry checked his hand, "I believe it was Benjamin Franklin who said that if you wish not to be forgotten, then either write things down worth reading… or do things worth writing."

Death was slowly starting getting up, "I think the Winchesters beat you to the punch in that. No, I consider you are more of a Shakespear man."

Harry got up as well, "How so?"

Death stroked his chin as he was leaving for the door, "How did the Bard put it? Oh, yes. It was Augustus last words."

Harry froze as Death spoke the line, "Have I played the part well? Then applaud as I exit."

* * *

 **(1) Season 5, Episode 14, "My Bloody Valentine"**

 **(2) Season 5, Episode 11, "Sam, Interrupted"**

 **(3) Season 5, Episode 12, "Swap Meat"**

 **(4) Season 5, Episode 13, "The Song Remains the Same"**

 **(5) I told you guys – real freaking thing and should be a mandatory read for any up and coming evil overlord.**

 **(6) I always found it slightly odd that a horseman looked so decrepit and feeble. I mean, War was young and all, but he** war **rash and stupid so he** fit **. Death was… the less said the better; the actor gave the role justice (also, his first appearance was MARVELOUS. I use his theme song as a ringtone for my mother – don't tell her though.) Pestilence was downright overpowered but represented his element; appears feeble and** nonthreatening **, but kills you from the inside out when you least expect him. Famine was… the opposite. Hopefully, my explanation at least explained it in some way since the show never did**

 **(7) In all fairness, I should have written 'black light' here, but I thought it would be misconstrued.**

 **(8) Season 5, Episode 15, "Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid"**

 **(9) Season 5, Episode 16, "Dark Side of the Moon"**

 **(10) Hey, some people are just born evil – literally. There is research out there that indicates that serial killers are most likely born due to a chemical imbalance that occurs while in utero. This is also not counting people who are born as psychopaths and succumb to the dark side of the condition (they** make up **1% of the general population and live rich and fulfilling lives, not all become manipulative dicks). In any case, Hell can make more demons but Heaven can't make more angels despite all the extra souls they get. It's basically a war of attrition**

 **(11) Season 5, Episode 17, "99 Problems"**

 **(12) Again, something the show never really addresses. When demons possess a body, they probably do something criminal with it so no one cares if the host disappears. Angel's vessels are a different story though – they are usually good,** law abiding **people if we use Jimmy Novak (Castiel's host) as an example. So… what? No one notices them disappearing or something? No one questions when they are found dead next to other people who have gone missing from what would most likely be different states or even continents? Seriously, there should be an episode in the future addressing – no way is this just some weird statistical anomaly in some database in DC.**

 **(13) Season 5, Episode 18, "Point of No Return"**

 **(14) Season 5, Episode 19, "Hammer of the Gods". And my foreshadowing from Chapter 8 comes back.**

 **(15) Spearmint Rhino is a chain of strip clubs that operates venues throughout the United States, United Kingdom, and Australia. Yeah… reference went over my head too when I heard it the first time.**

 **(16) Season 5, Episode 20, "The Devil You Know"**

 **(17) Season 5, Episode 21, "Two Minutes to Midnight"**

 **(18) Again, lost the original English, but I _think_ I translated 'true sight'.**

 **(19) You never know – Atlantis always seems like a cop-out when you use magic people don't understand. That, or I can somehow link it to Merpeople in the future (Michael cursing them or something."**

 **(20) 'The Day of the Doctor', 50th anniversary special of Doctor Who, said by the War Doctor near the end.**

 **(21) God is Chuck Shurley, who is pretending to be the Prophet of the Lord and writing the "Supernatural" book series, who the guys met and saved back in Episode 18 of Season 4, "The Monster at the End of This Book"**


	13. Swan Song

**Chapter 13: Swan Song (1)  
**

* * *

 _Early September 2010_

 _After months of planning and tracking, a temperature drop of about 20 degrees in a five-block radius of downtown Detroit finally allowed the boys to know where Lucifer was. The gang arrived in Detroit where Sam shared an emotional goodbye with both Castiel and Bobby. He also personally requested Dean never to bring him back once he was in Hell. Bobby told him not to give an inch and to fight with all his strength against Lucifer while Castiel tells him that he will look after Dean and Bobby and that everything will be fine, although he admits he is lying. Sam drinks the demon blood – gathered by Harry discretely with Crowley's assistance - and he and Dean go to confront Lucifer._

 _They got caught immediately by two goons and taken to Lucifer…_

* * *

Sam and Dean were held in place by demon goons while Lucifer stared outside. He breathed on the window pane and drew a pitchfork in the condensation. "Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite."

Dean looked at the devil, "Well, I'll alert the media."

Lucifer turned around, his face covered with red sores. "Help me understand something, guys. I mean, stomping through my front door is... a tad suicidal, don't you think?"

Sam jumped in, "We're not here to fight you."

"No? Then why are you?"

"I want to say 'yes.'"

Pause.

Three… Two… One…

"Excuse me?"

Sam took a breath, closed his eyes, and the two demons holding them dropped dead in flashes of light.

Lucifer whistled, "Chock-full of Ovaltine, are we?"

"You heard me. Yes."

Lucifer stared at Sam, "You're serious."

"Look, Judgment Day's a runaway train. We get it now. We just want off."

"Meaning?"

Sam pointed at Lucifer, "Deal of the century. I give you a free ride, but when it's all over, I live, he lives, you bring our parents back…"

Lucifer interrupted, "Okay, can we please drop the telenovela? I know you have the rings, Sam."

The Winchester's paused, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The Horsemen's rings? The magic keys to my Cage? Ring a bell? Come on, Sam. I've never lied to you. You could at least pay me the same respect. It's okay. I'm not mad. A wrestling match inside your noggin... I like the idea. Just you and me, one round, no tricks. You win, you jump in the hole. I win... Well, then I win. What do you say, Sam? A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you." (2)

Sam stared at Dean, "So he knows. Doesn't change anything."

Dean tried to contain himself, "Sam."

"We don't have any other choice."

"No."

Sam stared at Lucifer, in fear but not deterred, "Yes."

Lucifer smiled, closed his eyes and bright light emanated from him, nearly blinding Bobby and Castiel who were watching the building blaze with light, then dim.

Dean got up after a few seconds, seeing Sam motionless on the floor. He quickly took out the Horsemen's rings out of his pocket and threw them at the wall, where they stuck.

Dean stuck out his hand, chanting, " _Bvtmon...Tabges...Babalon"_ , after which the rings mystically opened up to Lucifer's Cage. Air sucked into it, making a sound which stured Sam awake, causing Dean to come to him.

"Sammy!"

"Dean!"

"Sammy!"

Sam, clearly in pain, groaned as he struggled to get to the hole in the wall, "I can feel him. Oh, god!"

"You got to go now! Come on! Go now, Sammy. Now!"

Sam walked towards the hole and took some deep breaths. He then smiled and turned back to Dean, "I was just messing with you. Sammy's long gone."

Sam turns back to the hole in the wall, raising his arm while Dean watched, " _Chdr bvtmon tabges babalon."_

As the hole closed, Sam goes up to the wall and removes the Horsemen's rings from the wall. "I told you... this would always happen in Detroit."

Sam began to turn and leave, but he paused as Dean put his hands to his head in oncoming tears, "Then again, I am the 'Prince of Lies.'"

Shock registered on Deans face as he was pushed towards the wall by Sam, his hand stuck out. Dean struggled to push away, but the pressure on his neck was building up. Sam slowly walked up to his former brother, "Rumor has it that your half-brother is currently hosting my brother. Now, I could leave you alive seeing as how now you may actually be desperate enough to say 'yes' to Michael and save your brother – as you are the better vessel. But no, am not taking that chance."

Sam hand slowly closed into a fist, increasing the pressure on Dean's neck. "I am going to enjoy torturing your brother with this memory – over, and over, and over again…"

Dean began to blank out when something teleported into the room. Lucifer didn't have enough time to react before the intruder got his hands on Dean and teleported him out.

Lucifer reacted too late but still managed to push the intruder toward the wall. He walked into the dim light and finally got a good look at the intruder.

"Ah yes, you are… Harry, right? Sam's memory regarding you is rather vague."

Harry smiled, body stuck to the wall, "Very intentional on my part."

"How did you teleport into this room? My presence alone should prevent anyone from entering this room, my will ensures that no one can teleport in."

Lucifer started to look outside, but Harry smiled, "Don't bother. I already teleported Bobby and Castiel safety away. I used the rest of my energy getting in here and rescuing Dean."

The smile that was on Lucifer's faltered into a frown before he resumed and added pressure to Harry. Harry grunted in pain, coughing a little blood before he chuckled, "Go ahead – I made my piece with this. My guardians will understand – they will hate the Winchesters afterward, but they will understand." (3)

Lucifer anger only rose, pushing harder and harder at Harry. The wall began to crack, but Harry kept laughing, "I knew this was coming… told me there was going to be a price… Worth it to end the Apocalypse…"

At that mention, the pressure stopped, but Lucifer came up and grabbed Harry with his actual hands, lifting him up, "Just for that – and your past interferences – I won't kill you. No, I will make it slow… I am a little rusty after all this time… Maybe I'll use as a practice run for what I will do to Dean later."

Harry smile never faltered, "Bring it on. I've been through Hell already… I bet your technique is out of date…"

Lucifer slammed Harry's head against the wall, "Just for that, I am gonna waterboard you… with some hydrochloric acid. Then I will skin you alive while roasting your innards. You mentioned to Sam that you aren't exactly human. Let's see how long your healing lasts before you finally give."

Harry smile finally faltered, but rather than be replaced with fear, he face was replaced with determination.

Gabriel taught him once how to dissociate himself from pain in the rare cases he wasn't around to heal him.

Time to see how long he can hold out.

The fire that Sam summoned in his hand made Harry flinch…

 _Can't show fear… Can't show pain…_

Lucifer put his hand on Harry's chest, burning through his clothes, "Got to clean you up first. The doctors say to use hot water and soap to disinfect – I prefer this method."

Harry didn't do anything – eyes didn't waver, mouth didn't twitch, not a tear was shed. Inside though… the less said, the better. He tried to think of anything to ignore the pain. Unfortunately, only a song came to mind…

" _I hurt myself today_

 _To see if I still feel_

 _I focus on the pain_

 _The only thing that's real_

 _The needle tears a hole_

 _The old familiar sting_

 _Try to kill it all away_

 _But I remember everything…" (4)  
_

* * *

 _Bobby House – A few hours later…_

The news was playing on the television, "Reports are flooding in – a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, more in Hong Kong, Berlin, and Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation but says to expect a six-figure death toll."

Castiel was first to speak, "It's starting."

Dean looked up from his hands, "Yeah, you think, genius?"

"You don't have to be mean."

"So what do we do now?"

"I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol... Just wait for the inevitable blast wave."

"Yeah, swell. Thank you, Bukowski (5). I-I mean, how do we stop it?"

Castile shook his head, "We don't. Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field, and the battle of Armageddon begins."

"Okay, well, where's this chosen field?"

"I don't know."

"Well, there's got to be something that we can do.

Castiel sat down before opening up a beer, "I'm sorry, Dean. This is over."

Dean rushed the angel, grabbing him by the shoulder, "You listen to me, you junkless sissy – we are not giving up! We did not get rescued by Harry just for us to give up so easily! Bobby? Bobby?"

The old man sat in silence, "There was never much hope to begin with. I don't know what to do."

* * *

 _Chuck's House – Night Time_

Chuck was typing the words he was saying on his computer, "...but they were never, in fact, homeless. That's a good line."

The phone rang, and he answered, "Mistress Magda?"

"Um, no, Chuck."

Chuck quickly panicked, "Oh, uh, Dean. Uh, wow. I, uh, I didn't know that you'd call."

"Who's Mistress Magda?"

"Nothing. She's a, uh, a – just a, uh... a close friend."

'Yeah, I'll bet – real close. Whatever happened to Becky?"

Chuck rubbed his neck, "Didn't work out. I had too much respect for her."

Dean laughed on the other end of the line, "Boy, you really got a whole virgin/hooker thing going on, don't you?"

"Okay, this can't be why you called."

Dean paused, "Sam said yes."

Chuck nodded, "I know. I saw it. I'm just working on the pages."

"Did you see where the title fight goes down?"

"The angels are keeping it top secret – very hush-hush."

"Aw, crap."

"But I saw it anyway. Perks of being a prophet. It's tomorrow, high noon – place called Stull Cemetery."

Dean made some noise on the other end of the line, "Stull Ceme - Wait. I know that. That's – that's an old boneyard outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?"

"I don't know. It all has to end where it started, I guess."

"All right, Chuck. You know of any way to short-circuit this thing?"

"Besides the rings? No. I'm sorry."

Dean sighed, "Well, do you have any idea what's gonna happen next?"

Now Chuck sighed, "I wish that I did. But I-I just – I honestly don't know yet. For a long time now, the visions I had were rather fluid – never exactly set in stone as it were. Don't know why – it just got difficult at times. Now… now I am drawing a big blank."

"All right. Thanks, Chuck."

* * *

 _Outside Boby's House – Night_

Dean closed the trunk of the Impala, with Bobby and Castiel walking up to him.

"You goin' someplace? You're goin' to do somethin' stupid. You got that look."

Dean huffed the rest of his supplies into the car, "I'm gonna go talk to Sam, Bobby."

"You just don't give up."

"It's Sam!" shouted Dean.

Castiel came forward, "If you couldn't reach him before, you're certainly not gonna be able to on the battlefield."

Dean chuckled, "Well, if we've already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right?"

"I just want you to understand – the only thing that you're gonna see out there is Michael killing your brother."

"Well, then I ain't gonna let him die alone."

* * *

 _Stull Cemetery – The next day_

Lucifer in Sam's body stood in the cemetery. There was the sound of wings before Michael in Adam's body appears.

"It's good to see you, Michael."

"You too. It's been too long. Can you believe it's finally here?"

"No. Not really."

"Are you ready?"

Lucifer nodded, "As I'll ever be. A part of me wishes we didn't have to do this."

Michael mirrored the action, "Yeah. Me too."

"Then why are we?"

Michael looked at Lucifer in anger, "Oh, you know why! I have no choice, after what you did."

Lucifer laughed – with subtle overtones of indignation – as he responded, "What I did? What if it's not my fault?

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it. Dad made everything. Which means he made me who I am! God wanted the Devil." (6)

Michael stared in confusion, "So?"

"So why? And why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point."

"What's your point?"

"We're going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard."

Michael thought about it – he sincerely thought it through – but he couldn't change his way of thinking, "I'm sorry. I-I can't do that. I'm a good son, and I have my orders."

Lucifer pointed at his brother, "But you don't have to follow them."

"What, you think I'm gonna rebel? Now? I'm not like you."

"Please, Michael…"

Michael smirked – in pain, not in joy – at the familiar sight, "You know, you haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself. We were together. We were happy. But you betrayed me – all of us – and you made our father leave."

"No one makes Dad do anything. He is doing this to us. Just look at this," Lucifer turned around and pointed at the tree, one on which Michael finally noticed a boy leaning on – brutalized. "That child is the reason the Apocalypse was almost averted a while back. I don't know what he is or how he was made, but he is definitely God's agent. He has been systematically playing both sides against us to ensure that we would keep fighting each other…"

"Stop lying to me brother. I have been aware of Harry for some time now," Michael's anger was evident – at who, however, was a mystery. "We in the higher echelons of Heaven have been aware of his attempts to stop the Apocalypse from occurring. We never knew how he was doing it or who he worked with besides the Winchesters… but I couldn't blame him for his attempts. I knew he wasn't part of God's plan, but one could understand his desire to make sure we didn't fight."

Michael glared back at Lucifer, "What you did to him, however, for preventing you from escaping and completing the end of the world, was too far. You're a monster, Lucifer. And I have to kill you."

Lucifer looked down in shame, "If that's the way it's got to be... Then I'd like to see you try."

Lucifer and Michael slowly began to circle one another, before hearing the sound of a car engine and music.

" _Gunter gleiben glauchen globen  
All right  
I got somethin' to say  
Yeah, it's better to burn out  
Yeah, than fade away  
All right  
Ow gonna start a fire  
C'mon_

 _Rise up gather round  
Rock this place to the ground  
Burn it up, let's go for broke  
Watch the night go up in smoke  
Rock on Rock on  
Drive me crazier, no serenade  
No fire brigade, just pyromania (c'mon)"_

Dean walks out of the car – after turning off Def Leppard – towards Lucifer and Michael, "Howdy, boys. Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Michael attempted to interrupt, but Dean focused all of his attention on Lucifer, "Hey. We need to talk."

"Dean. Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid."

Dean pointed at Lucifer annoyed, "I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Sam."

"You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here."

Dean looked at his half-brother, "Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry."

"Adam isn't home right now."

"Well, then you're next on my list, buttercup. But right now, I need five minutes with him."

The fury was evident on Michael's face; he may make an exception for Harry but not for Dean, "You little maggot. You are no longer a part of this story!"

A voice shouted from behind, "Hey, ass-butt!"

Castiel and Bobby had appeared behind Michael, with the angel holding a bottle from which a flame was burning – a Molotov cocktail. Castiel threw the bottle at Michael, who screamed as he went up in flames.

Dean gave Castiel such a look of surprise at the sight of an angel burning, "Ass-butt?"

Castiel shrugged, "He'll be back – and upset – but you got your five minutes."

Lucifer gave Castiel such an odd combination of expressions, "Castiel. Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?"

"Uh... no."

The devil prepped his hand, "No one dicks with Michael but me."

All he did was snap his fingers, but Castiel exploded in a rain of blood and chunks of meat.

Dean – despite the pain he was feeling at the death of his friend – pressured on, "Sammy, can you hear me?"

Lucifer started to show strain on his face; it seemed like the act of killing Castiel loosened Lucifer's control, "You know... I tried to be nice... for Sammy's sake. But you... are such a pain... in my ass."

Lucifer threw Dean into the trees – almost hitting a naked and broken Harry - during which Bobby attempted to shoot Lucifer in the back. When Lucifer turned, Bobby tried to shoot him again in the front, but Lucifer made a twisting hand motion and snapped his neck

As Dean was screaming in pain at the sight of the old man dying, Lucifer pulled Dean in and smashed him against the hood of the Impala. As Dean fell back against the car, spitting blood, he managed to gurgle out a few words, "Sammy? Are you in there?"

Lucifer started punching his former brother in the face repeatedly, "Oh, he's in here, all right. And he's gonna feel the snap of your bones. Every single one. We're gonna take our time."

By this point, Dean's face was almost completely swollen and bleeding, yet he still managed to put out a hand on Lucifer's jacket. "Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you."

As Lucifer was drawing back his fist for another punch, sunlight glinted off the roof of the Impala, catching Sam's eye. Through the window, Sam saw a little green army man stuck in the ashtray.

* * *

 **On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville – a blue two-door Caprice.**

 **There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.**

 **She was first owned by Sal Moriarty, an alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends, he'd drive around giving Bibles to the poor "gettin' folks right for Judgment Day." That's what he said. Sam and Dean don't know any of this, but if they did, I bet they'd smile.**

 **After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that's where this story begins.**

 **And here's where it ends.**

…

 **The Impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... and a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important. This is the stuff that's important. The army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray – it's still stuck there. The Legos that Dean shoved into the vents – to this day, heat comes on and they can hear 'em rattle. These are the things that make the car theirs – really theirs. Even when Dean rebuilt her from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed, 'cause it's the blemishes that make her beautiful. The Devil doesn't know or care what kind of car the boys drive.**

…

 **In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day – sometimes a week, if they were lucky. They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove 1,000 miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars... for hours... without saying a word. It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls...**

* * *

All the great moments that Sam and Dean experienced in this Impala started to flashback through Sam's mind. Sam kept staring, his fist slowly unclenching in the middle of the air. As recognition finally dawned on Sam's face, he let go of Dean, who fell to the ground against the Impala.

Sam slowly started to move away from the car, "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him."

Sam took out the Horsemen's rings and tossed them on the ground, chanting, " _Bvtmon tabges babalon_ "

The ground caved in around the rings, the air sucked into the hole. Sam and Dean looked at each other as the gap widens. Sam breathes deeply. A voice came in from the trees, "Sam!"

Sam gave a quick glance to Harry leaning against the tree, still laying on the ground, barely holding himself up, "I am sorry… that it had to end this way… I forgive you…"

Sam nodded as he turned back and stared into the hole. Michael teleported back in behind Sam, "Sam! It's not gonna end this way! Step back!"

"You're gonna have to make me!"

Michael shook his head in desperation, "I have to fight my brother, Sam! Here and now! It's my destiny!"

Sam looked at Dean for one last time, closed his eyes and spread his arms. Michael lunged forward and grabbed Sam's jacket, but the taller brother grabbed Michael's arm, dragging them together into the hole. After few moments, the hole closed in a blinding flash of light. The Horsemen's rings burned brightly in the grass on the ground where the hole was. Dean closed his eyes as he leans back against the Impala, the finality finally hitting him.

Dean didn't know how long he was out of it before Castiel appeared next to him.

"Cas, you're alive?"

Castiel nodded, the corners of his mouth slightly rising, "I'm better than that."

He touched Dean on the forehead, and Dean's wounds healed immediately. Dean quickly gave himself a cursory glance before looking up, "Cas, are you God? "

"That's a nice compliment. But no. Although, I do believe he brought me back. New and improved."

Castiel walked up to Bobby and touched him on the forehead, resurrecting him. Dean went up to pick up the Horsemen's rings, which he held in his hand. Dean looked back at the trees, noting Harry falling on the ground completely. Panic showed on the Winchester, as he called for Castiel to go heal him.

* * *

 _Bobby's House – Night_

Dean and Castiel stood outside, sitting on the Impala.

"Was it really that bad?"

Castiel nodded, "I did what I could but… Lucifer inflicted years, maybe decades worth of torture upon the child in the few short hours he had him. He brought him near the brink of death, healed him enough to live, and repeated the cycle. The child was already without energy, as he spend it all on teleporting us out of Lucifer's range. Even with his supernatural nature, it will take a significant chunk of time before he recovers naturally."

"Naturally? What about his magic?"

"His vessel is too broken to serve as a functional container. It is why he requested that I put those iron-compound manacles on him. They will burn, but until he regains enough focus and control, there is nothing he can do. Thankfully, since his connection to chaos is currently cut off, he won't be under pressure to perform any magic to survive."

Dean nodded, "At least Crowly didn't snap us when we summoned him to get Harry. He did look like he would kill us without hesitation."

Dean nodded, "I think he believes that out truce is finally over – we are back to square one in his mind. Unless Harry gets involved, as far as Crowley is concerned, I am an enemy in his mind."

Silence permeated the air for a while before Dean asked the stoic angel, "What are you gonna do now?"

"Return to Heaven, I suppose."

"Heaven?"

"With Michael in the Cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there."

Dean smiled as he imagined the scene, "So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?"

"I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am."

Dean whistled, "Wow. God gives you a brand-new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again."

Castiel lost his smile at that, "I don't know what God wants. I don't know if he'll even return. It just... seems like the right thing to do."

"Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm coming for him next."

Castiel studied Dean's face, "You're angry."

"That's an understatement."

"He helped. Maybe even more than we realize."

Dean's fury was explosive at the implication, "That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about Harry? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole and Harry is most likely paralyzed for the rest of his life!"

"You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom? If we ask Harry the same question, he would say 'peace' – which is exactly what he fought for."

When Dean looked over, Castiel disappeared. "Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?"

* * *

 _Lisa's House – Night_

Dean knocked on Lisa's door, which she opened.

Dean spoke what he could, his voice breaking, "Hey, Lisa."

"Oh, thank god. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Uh, if it's not too late, I... think I'd like to take you up on that beer."

Lisa smiled, "It's never too late."

Dean stepped in, leaning into Lisa's arm, "Shh. It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

…

Dean sat at Lisa's table with Ben, staring at the plate in front of him.

"You okay?"

Dean gave Lisa a look, "Yeah, I'm good," as he took a drink of whiskey.

Outside Lisa's house, a streetlight burned out. Beneath it… stood Sam, watching the house.

* * *

 _Chuck's House - Day_

A manuscript for " _Supernatural: Swan Song by Carver Edlund_ " lied on Chuck's desk.

 **Endings are hard.**

 **Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.**

Chuck typed on his computer.

 **This is the last Dean and Bobby will see of each other for a very long time. And, for the record, at this point next week, Bobby will be hunting a rugaru outside of Dayton. But not Dean. Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.**

 **So, what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point?**

Chuck typed "THE END" and took a drink.

"No doubt – endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?"

Chuck smiled – in his all white ensemble – before vanishing into thin air.

* * *

 _Chicago, Illinois – A few days later…_

If you weren't there the first time around, you would have thought that Death hasn't moved an inch since his last encounter with Dean and Harry.

So him eating his pizza - with a fork and knife – when the bell on the door rang wasn't that odd.

Him hearing the squeaking of wheels did.

It was on odd sight, one which on some level Death expected.

Crowley, dressed in his usual black-red suit and tie ensemble, was pushing the wheelchair, making sure not to bump it into the tables and chairs on the way.

In the chair sat Harry – what was left of him. That may have been morbid on some level, but there was only so much left that reminded Death of what he saw the first time around. The eyes were still there: green, dignified, joyful, proud, yet with layers of pain upon them. Everything else was either covered, burned away, or scarred.

While Harry was covered in a heating blanket, Death could still tell that his legs were bandaged and in casts of various lengths. His left arm was at in an angel due to a strap holding up the cast, as it was seen poking out from the side. The right arm still seemed to work, but if the bloody bandages were any indication, it wasn't much better then the other appendages.

His face took the worst of it from what Death could tell. His hair was either sheared-off or burned-off. Most of it was bandaged, but the eyes, ears, and mouth were open. Teeth seemed to be all in the right place ironically, and the ears were intact. Eyes were the same, but Death noted that the right side appeared to have a scar going across it: the bandage covered it, but the eyelids had the tips of healing from top and bottom.

Harry looked at Crowley, his worry evident, "It's alright Dad, I'll take care of this. Come back for me in an hour…"

Death made a cough that Harry noted, "Half hour then. Remember to get something for Gabriel please."

Crowley nodded, making sure not to take his eyes off Harry as he teleported away.

Death went back to his pizza, "So Gabriel still lives. I can only assume that he and Raphael are the only Archangels still around?"

"Michael is in the cage with Lucifer so that one is a toss-up."

Death took another bit of the pizza, "So… was it worth it?"

Harry gave himself a look over, "Castiel and Bobby are resurrected, Dean is still alive, there is relative peace in the world, and Sam made his choice to go into the hole… Speaking of which…"

Harry slowly reached into his pocket with his one working hand, taking out Death's ring and carefully gave it to the Horseman, "Dean wanted to give it back to you, but he had no idea how to find you." (7)

Death reached for the ring, took it, quickly rubbed it clean, and put it on his hand. "I would have sent a Reaper to get it eventually, but this will do."

Death looked at Harry, "Would you like a slice?"

The boy smiled, "I would, but my jaw still hasn't set in yet. For now, I am on a liquid diet."

Death nodded and went back to his plate, "Did the Sight tell you exactly when God should pay attention to the Winchesters?"

Harry shook his head, "Didn't need to – the price was the payment to save them, not to watch them."

Death gave Harry the death-glare: coming from the actual Horseman, it was the epitome of the phrase. "You may have an issue with resurrecting individuals, but God is more lenient – especially since I know how he looks like."

Before Death could correct, Harry interrupted, "That's right – and I know where he has been hiding and I how to track him. Dean's amulet only works when God allows it, but I have my ways.."

Harry leaned forward as best he could, "I may have been able to fool Gabriel and Crowley with the whole 'Prophet of the Lord' shtick, but I know you met his current visage to pass on my message. Now you are gonna pass on a new one - you tell him to leave my family and me alone or else I will find the skeletons in _His_ closest. And if you think I am joking, remind him that I can easily find a way to Purgatory. Better yet, tell him I know where Cain and his mark is." (8)

Death paled, more so than his visage already allowed. Harry leaned back into his wheelchair, "Don't take it the wrong way – I hold nothing against the guy. Maybe it was for the greater good. Maybe he did get tired of all the chaos up in Heaven – I can't blame him; I can relate since I personify the concept. I can even understand why he asked for such a steep price. I knew the second that I couldn't draw in power to escape from Lucifer it wasn't going to be pleasant. The torture was bad but seeing as I took who knows how many lives to make sure the Apocalypse didn't happen the first time around and stop it the second time, it seemed fair at the time."

Death linked his fingers together, thinking about the situation in front him, "I could kill you right now, and it wouldn't bother me in the least. What makes you think I will act as your personal delivery boy?"

Harry lifted his hand to his neck, taking out a chain with an oddly shaped medallion on it. It took a moment for Death to recognize the symbol he hasn't seen in a long-long time: a circle inside a triangle with a line going down the middle of it all.

Harry smiled as recognition dawned on Death's face, "I may not know how to gain access to my lost culture as a wizard, but even some folklore can bleed through in the right places. I started with _'The Pardoner's Tale'_ by Chaucer and worked backwards from there (9). And if the stories are any indication, you may be cruel to those who screw with you, but you are fair with those who respect you – just like Hades. Since I haven't pissed you off in any way and I have a healthy respect for your job in the grand scheme of things, I may keep what you did under raps from you-know-who."

"What makes you think he doesn't already know?"

"Because if he did know what you did for those three brothers, he would have found out and killed them himself. My guess is whatever magics wizards used to bend the spaces in the world must be high-grade Old-World juju that even He can't get through."

If Death had the capability to show anger, he wasn't using it, so Harry went on, "Now maybe wizards aren't religious, which means that He doesn't have any strong foothold there. But death… Well, death is universal, so you have a foothold everywhere. You are probably one of the few high-rollers in the world who can find them."

Death unlinked his fingers and went back to his pizza slice, "Wizards are not strong nor dangerous enough to interfere with the scheme of things in the world. The power they wield, however, is too… chaotic… not to be wary of."

Harry smiled, "You and a few Pagan gods are keeping a watch on them, aren't you?"

"The gods aren't aware of me, but I look into them from time to time. The last time I needed to get involved personally was during World War II due to the interference from a… dangerous dark wizard assisting the Third Reich." (10)

Harry raised his brow at that phrasing, "Really? You thought he was dangerous?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you boy, even if you wield like a sharpened dagger. But if you must know, while their culture and spell methodology are in some ways very backward, their magic works. They may not have access to some of the heavy duty magics of the past, but what the have – in the right hands – works."

Harry nodded, putting away the medals back under his covers, "Let's let bygones be bygones. I returned the ring to you on Dean's behalf, I will keep your secret if you pass on my message to God, and I will be on my merry way to heal up. Hopefully, we won't run into each anytime soon."

Death wiped his mouth before giving Harry a glare, "You really think that you will actually manage to heal from what Lucifer did to you? I may not be a healer, but even tell that you are teetering on the edge of death. Can you even feel anything below the waist?"

Harry winced, "I may not currently be strong enough to draw in chaos to fuel myself, but my body can still naturally heal in part due to Gabriel's essence…"

"No, that won't be enough. This was part of God's machinations child. No simple magics can heal you up just because you will it. And even with your nature… it will take years, even decades. Neither he nor I will let you cheat through that – we will ensure it."

Harry smiled, "Don't worry, I won't violate the letter nor spirit of the deal I made with you and God. I'll just… go to a hidey-hole somewhere far away and wait out for my body to heal all on its own."

Death smirked, "You already have a way around it don't you? A way neither of us considered?"

"Don't make it sound so cheap – I will actually have to wait it out naturally… I just won't look like a freaking adult afterward."

Death finally realized what Harry was planning, "You realize that will be tantamount to solitary confinement for who knows how long. I don't know what you may have gone through with your family and Lucifer, but waiting… that's the worse torture there possibly is out there. It breaks hardened criminals within days. You are still a child; a supernatural one mind you, but still a child." (11)

Harry shrugged, "I'll have stuff to do. Maybe I will catch up on some reading, maybe make a personal tome of spells and secrets. When my other arm heals up, I might take up guitar playing as a form of physical therapy. I always wanted to try painting – Bob Ross has DVDs right?"

Death sighed, "If you believe that it will work, who am I to stop you?"

Harry's smiled disappeared, "I am aware of the drawbacks from what I am gonna attempt – I'll deal with the issues as they come up. Besides, some peace and quiet will be good for me in the long run… hopefully."

"Your funeral, child."

* * *

 _January 2011 - Lisa's House_

"Dean, there's a letter here for you."

Harry looked up from his program, "Does it say from who?"

"Someone named… Harry MacLeod"

Dean was shocked, but that was quickly replaced by a smile, "Guess he kept his promise… MacLeod huh?"

* * *

 _Late July 2011 – Harry's House (12)  
_

Even for Massachusetts, the weather was beautiful and warm for that July. So nice that Harry was enjoying a pleasant moment of meditation on the patio – a habit he picked up from his 'incarceration.'

Unfortunately, that was soon interrupted by the arrival of the owl that landed on the table next to Harry.

Harry opened one eye to note the oddity – not because it was an owl, but because it was daytime. He tried to shoo it away, but the big white beast wouldn't leave.

That's when he noted the scroll attached to its leg. Seeing as how the owl didn't leave when Harry got up and approached the bird, he assumed he was in clear to remove it from the bird.

What was written was a definite surprise for Harry – an oddity for him.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. MacLeod,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and_

 _Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Harry re-read the scroll twice to make sure what he was reading.

Finally, he smiled – a trickster smile, no less. "Well now… Won't this be fun."

* * *

 **(1) This entire chapter is basically Season 5, Episode 22, "Swan Song"**

 **(2) 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia' - The Charlie Daniels Band**

 **(3) I needed an out to prevent Harry from being away from Hogwarts during the school year to go and help the Winchesters out in the later seasons if the need ever arises.**

 **(4) 'Hurt' – Johnny Cash (if you listen to the whole song its meaning fits to the situation)**

 **(5) Henry Charles Bukowski was a German-American poet, novelist, and short story writer. I can only assume they mentioned him because he drank a lot since none of his works deal with the end of the world.**

 **(6) In all fairness, this statement does represent an interesting thought experiment. God made everything, meaning everything made before humans (i.e. Free-will) was built with a specific purpose in mind by God. By that logic, Lucifer rebellion shouldn't have been a surprise since God build him that way. Either God made Lucifer with the idea of him being the Devil and carrying out his duties or God made a mistake. However, if God made one mistake, by extension, he should have made others, since by extension, making mistakes makes him less than perfect. I am not a religious man, but do you get what I am saying?**

 **(7) Technically, Dean would have returned the ring to Death in Season 6, Episode 11, "Appointment In Samarra", but Harry needed a reason to meet with Death again.**

 **(8) In Cain's first appearance in Season 9, Episode 11, "First Born", he basically admits that he was hiding out in Missouri for the last 150 years so this is not a stretch, especially if he lived in that one spot.**

 **(9) 'The Pardoner's Tale' is basically about three young men setting out to kill Death. They encounter an Old Man who says they will find him under a nearby tree. When they arrive they discover a hoard of treasure and decide to stay with it until nightfall and carry it away under cover of darkness. Out of greed, they murder each other. Sound familiar? Also, since I might forget about this later on, the horcrux idea can be traced back to Slavic folklore character Kashchey/ Koschei the Immortal, whose soul (or death) is hidden separate from his body inside a needle, which is in an egg, which is in a duck, which is in a hare, which is in an iron chest, which is buried under a green oak tree, which is on the island of Buyan in the ocean. As long as his soul is safe, he cannot die. I would also like to point out that there are seven things involved here (needle, egg, duck, hare, chest, under the tree, on an island) so yeah…**

 **(10) Gellert Grindelwald if that wasn't clear – or was it someone else? (insert evil laugh)**

 **(11) My 1st hint as to how Harry will heal himself.**

 **(12) The 'Supernatural' timeline isn't too clear on this, but Season 6 should have started some time in Spring or Summer, so it fits.**


	14. Let's Take A Visit To The Other Side

**Chapter 14: Let's Take A Visit To The Other Side**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Already, finally made it to the Potterverse section of my story. Good time if any to address a few things.**

 **1) Reviews are just for that - reviews. I do not enjoy reading the comments of people telling me that they didn't enjoy my work. If you don't like, don't read to the end of it or say anything to begin with.**

 **2) The naming of chapter 13 as "Swan Song" was a complete coincidence on my part - I was just calling it by the episode title used for 'Supernatural.'**

 **Now for the actual chapter.**

 **1) I don't know why this chapter came so easily to me, but it did. Unfortunately, I feel like I took some liberties regarding how the 'Potterverse' Wizard World and the characters used by JKR work. If anyone feels I went TOO FAR out of line with it, please tell me so I can make revisions.**

 **2) I debated writing Hagrid's speech like in the story, but I felt that it would be too confusing to always remember his rules regarding grammar. For now, unless I reconsider, I'll leave his speech in bold.**

 **3) If one of my readers speaks 'legalese,' please message me regarding a particular section of this chapter to make it correct - you will know it when you see it.**

 **4) I took a fanfiction standard as well as a literary change to the Potter family line in this chapter – hopefully, the purists won't kill me because of it.**

 **PLEASE ENJOY MY WORK!**

* * *

 _August, 2006 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Professor Dumbledore was sitting silently at the desk in his office doing some paperwork before the new term started when Professor McGonagall came bursting in in a frenzy.

"Albus, we have an emergency! The worst has happened!"

Dumbledore looked up from his desk – he has been dreading this day for a long time, but he didn't expect for it to come so soon, "He has returned, hasn't he?"

Minerva paused for a second to register the Headmaster's words, "I... didn't even consider Voldemort… but it's possible he is responsible what happened to Mr. Potter!"

At this point, Dumbledore got up from behind his desk to go comfort his friend. "Minerva, take a breather and tell me what you can." She did just that as she held onto the back of the nearby chair and did her best to tell the headmaster what the problem was.

"It's Harry Potter's guardians, sir. We got word from our agents in the Ministry after a Muggle newspaper reported that their house burned down. Sir… they all died."

Shock finally registered on Dumbledore's face, "Then Harry…"

"They don't know. The wizards haven't been able to inspect the site yet for traces of magic due to the muggle investigators."

"What investigators?"

Minerva sniffled before continuing, "They only found three burned up corpses in the living room, but based on the reports, it seems like they were… tortured. But that's not the worst of it!"

"There's worse?"

"Yes… while the house did burn away most of the structure and their belongings, the cupboard under the stairs was undamaged. Sir, the room was a torture chamber… and they found proof someone actually lived in it."

Dumbledore was speechless. He didn't even realize that he fell into the opposing chair next to Minerva. "Was it…"

Minerva shook her head, "His aunt never let him out of the house nor register him as a ward. As far as the Muggles are concerned, they either kept their own son in there or some missing child as a… 'plaything.' They have begun to investigate the family, and evidence points to the later."

Dumbledore was paralyzed by this revelation. _But… how… the Blood Ward should have alerted me if Harry was in danger… I've looked into them when he was younger…What went wrong?..._ "How can you be so sure?"

"The Muggles have figured out how to trace someone lineage through their blood – like goblins do, but without magic. They found someone's blood in the cupboard, and they managed to link it to Petunia's side of the family."

Dumbledore looked confused, "I don't see how that relates to…"

"Sir, Harry was born in Godric's Hollow - his birth was never registered by the Muggle government. And while James and Lily's deaths were reported and covered up, it still took effort to convince them that James Potter was an actual person by their standards (1). Now they find blood of someone who is related to Lily's sister living in a cupboard with his aunt… Sir, the papers are reporting that Petunia killed her sister out of jealousy with her husband's help, and have been systematically torturing the child that was in the car at the time of car accident."

Dumbledore couldn't say anything. He never, never expected it to go this way. He wanted Harry to be raised by Muggle parents so that the fame didn't go to his head and corrupt him, especially since Lily's protection could only work in a family member's home but…

 _Wait… the scar… the Blood Ward…could they have actually interfered with each other?..._

"But did they find Harry's body?"

Minerva shook her head as she cried, "Sir, the leaving room where they found the Dursley's was the least damaged room left – everything else was in cinders. If Harry was left in the house…"

"Then his bones would be ashes… We need to send an Auror or two to confirm that Harry died in that house, if at all. We also need to make sure that the fire and torture occurred by magical means through Voldemort's supporter's…"

Minerva got up, "Why do we even need to check? Who else could have gotten to the boy?"

Dumbledore grimly looked up his oldest friend, "Minerva… if Harry's body wasn't in the house and he has been tortured for years by his aunt, her husband, and their son…"

 _If something as powerful and ancient was susceptible to the… whatever it was in his scar… then how could he not been affected?_

Dumbledore paused to phrase his next words carefully, "It doesn't take much to kill a Muggle – no matter how large – with a surprise tactic and a decent knife. The fire could have been made to burn away the evidence."

Minerva's hands went up to her mouth in shock as she fell back into her chair, "You can't mean…"

"Minerva, we have seen the horrors that the Muggles can bring upon themselves– remember what happened in Germany during the Second World War."

Both adults hung their head in shame, "We have to remind the Aurors to speak with Ms. Figg – she must have seen what has been happening in that house all these years." _Unless she was also affected by whatever corrupted Harry's home…_

Minerva nodded, "But… what if it was all an accident? What if the fire started off in the kitchen where Harry happened to be? What if…"

Dumbledore held up his hand to pause her, "If indeed Harry Potter died in that fire, then the Wizarding World has lost the last of the Potters and a hero. We can't ignore what happened to Harry in that home, but we must bury this information to the best of our abilities. We will keep it quiet the best we can for now until more evidence surfaces, but more likely than not, the Ministry will become involved one way or another. It does, however, narrow down our picks of perpetrators if Harry wasn't responsible for the fire. "

Anger finally arose on Minerva's face, " _LUCIUS_."

Dumbledore nodded, "As a governor with a lot of pull in the Ministry and as an 'Imperiused Death Eater,' he would have gained access to such knowledge one way or another. It is more than likely that he managed to convince one of his close 'friends' to deal with the child while he was still young."

"But didn't Snape say that Lucius believed that Harry himself was a possible Dark Wizard, seeing as how he managed to defeat Voldemort at such a young age?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "Snape did admit that, but only two people actually know how Voldemort actually died, and we are both rather good at Occlumency. We can only thank our fortunes that no other Death Eater was as adept at Legilimens as Voldemort. But in any case, you are correct. If anything, Lucius would have waited instead for the child to admitted to Hogwarts so that he might get a second chance of world domination if Harry Potter grew up to become another, and greater, pure-blood champion."

"Albus, you can't possibly think…"

"You have to admit, Minerva, even if Voldemort's heritage was a closely guarded secret, the symmetry is evident. It is the reason why we believe that he targeted the half-blood Potter – like himself – rather than the full-blood Longbottom."

Minerva thought about the implications for a second, "Then... does that mean… if Harry Potter is actually dead… does the prophecy now apply to Neville?"

 _By Merlin's beard, I hope not…_ Albus hung his head in shame, "I haven't checked the Book of Admittance yet, but from what I hear from the Longbottom Matriarch, he has yet to show signs of magic."

Minerva was shocked by this, "But his parents…"

"Do not fear, Minerva. While most wizarding folks aren't as accepting of Muggle knowledge or works, some of my former students have revealed their suspicions that magic relies on some sort of inheritance. Some have even presented enough evidence to convince me."

Minerva tilted her head, "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that based on what my former students have gathered, it is _impossible_ for a child of two – and forgive my phrasing – purebloods to be anything else but a wizard. Now, if one of his parents were half-blood, there would be a small chance, but Frank's and Alice's don't remove Muggles and Squibs from their family trees like the Blacks, so it's easy to check if they have any in the family." (2)

Minerva finally understood his implications, "So Neville is a wizard just… a late-bloomer as it were."

"If that is the case – and only if we don't find evidence of Potter – we have to shift our priorities to Neville."

"How so Albus?"

Albus shook his head, "Let us not make any assumptions yet, Minerva. A child has just died, and we are discussing him as he was nothing more than a pawn." _Never children… I don't use children as pawns…_

"I am sorry Albus, that isn't what I was trying to imply, it's just…"

"I know you were against leaving Harry with his Muggle relatives, but even I believed he would be safer there. If he lived in the Wizard World, he would have become…"

Now Minerva paused the headmaster, "Albus, you don't have to explain yourself. I can understand your justifications: if he lived with wizards, he could have been corrupted by pure-blood supremacist ideology early on. Plus, a celebrity lifestyle is never right for a child – I learned more than enough from seeing the Muggle tabloids…"

 _Seems she came to the same conclusion as I did,_ thought the headmaster

"…but it was for the greater good in the end."

Minerva slowly got up, "I am sorry Albus, but if worst comes to pass, we must make preparations for a private funeral. I believe that a plot of land has already been reserved next to his parents?"

Albus nodded, "I never thought we would actually use it so soon…"

* * *

 _A few days later – Gringotts Wizarding Bank_

" _What do you mean we don't have access to the Potter Vault?_ " screamed Lucius.

When Dumbledore got word that Harry's inheritance was going to be claimed by Malfoy, he dropped everything and got to the bank as fast as he could.

However, it seemed like Griphook had it – and Minister Cornelius Oswald Fudge – under control.

"I concur with Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Griphook. The Wizarding Bylaws state that in the event of the death of the last member of a noble and ancient family, all belongings and funds are transferred to the closest living relative. As evident by both the Potter and Black Family Registry, Narcissa Black – now Narcissa Malfoy – is the closest living relative that Harry Potter has. As such, your establishment – Gringotts Wizarding Bank – must let her have access to the Potter Family vaults."

Dumbledore pushed himself through the Ministry officials – who actually parted for him, but that's not here or there – before looking at the files presented to Griphook.

"I am noticing that Sirius Black and Andromeda Tonks aren't listed here, but Bellatrix Lestrange is. Tell me, Lucius, how did you manage to skip these two other Blacks?"

Before Lucius had a chance to speak his mind, Griphook's loud cough caught everyone's attention.

"Now that I have your focus, we can proceed. First of all, thank you for coming so quickly, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded, "I only wish that I received this message sooner, old friend."

Griphook nodded in kind, "Don't worry yourself, Headmaster. The Minister and his associated circumvented the head authority of Gringott's and just expected us goblins to hand over all of their… new funds."

Griphook gave the two a glare that no one missed. While goblins are considered to be inferior by many wizards, most are aware of the fact that much of their financial holdings – and wizard specialists - are located in the goblin institution. As the only wizarding bank in Great Britain, it stands to reason that the goblins would have a tremendous amount of power over the wizarding economy, as goblins are also the force behind minting the wizarding currency, Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. If it weren't for the goblins policies against liars and thieves – as well as other closely guarded values that no one could never find out – wizards would have been more hostile to them.

Well, more hostile then they already are.

"As I was saying before I was interrupted. Due to the… rushed nature… of this claim, I shall be speaking on behalf of Gringotts Head Goblin, as he is currently unviable at the moment, something the Minister should have been aware of."

The implication didn't go unnoticed by the many ministry bureaucrats present at the bank, some of which were Lucius's 'close friends.'

"Now, as Albus Dumbledore has correctly pointed out, the removal of Sirius Black from the personal family tree in the Black household holds no legal ground in the Ministry Family Registry – no matter how much the remaining Blacks disagree," Griphook was looking at Narcissa as he said that. "Unless it was done by the head of the Black family before his or her passing, then whatever the family claims isn't verifiable. As such, under these circumstances, all of the Potter Holdings…"

"Now wait just a minute," interrupted Fudge, "Mr. Black is currently in Azkaban for the murder of twelve Muggles by egregiously improper use of magic. He has no rights to the claim."

Griphook looked up at the man, "As no official investigation or trial has ever taken place regarding the crime that Sirius Black has committed, the heads of Gringotts see Sirius merely in the custody of the Ministry (3). Until an official hearing is made and paperwork is presented to justify the claim, the Potter Vault would go to Sirius Black, since he is the closest relative to the Potter family via Dorea Potter née Black, wife of Charlus Potter, mother of James Potter. And do not attempt to claim that you were under Marshal Law and that a trial wasn't required – a trial is a trial, despite whatever you may argue."

Narcissa was about to interject when Griphook beat her to it, "Before you argue against it, the removal of Dorea Black from the House of Black, it holds no merit here: blood is blood, regardless of family politics. Furthermore, Cygnus Black, husband of Druella Rosier and father of Narcissa, was the younger brother of Walburga Black, wife of Orion Black, mother or Regulus and Sirius Black. Ergo, by virtue of being born to the older sibling, Sirius will inherit the House of Potter Vaults. If, and _ONLY IF_ Sirius dies, then does the order of inheritance follows the given order: Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, Andromeda Tonks née Black, Narcissa Malfoy née Black, and finally, if everyone else is dead or ineligible, Arthur Weasley, via his mother, Cedrella Weasley née Black. If all of the as of mention recipients are dead, then their children inherit in the order of the specified individuals. Since Bellatrix has no children, the first in line would be Nymphadora Tonks. Hopefully, this will alleviate whatever… misconceptions you may have had regarding who inherits the House of Potter fortune." (4)

As the Minister – and everyone present - was flabbergasted by what he just heard, the goblin added one more thing, "We may be bound by Ministry laws, but as you should be aware, Gringotts is a separate jurisdiction in the matters of inheritance, belongings, and funds. If you wish for Narcissa Black to inherit the Potter Vaults, just present the evidence gathered regarding the incident that Sirius Black caused in a trial, and we shall respond appropriately. However, all that will do is cause the inheritance to transfer to Bellatrix. Unfortunately, since she actually had a trial and is therefore _legally_ ineligible for the inheritance, it will go by default to Andromeda Tonks. "

Dumbledore did his best to hide a smile so no one would notice. He never believed that Griphook would show that much of backbone – to the Minister and Lucius, no less!

 _At least Harry's family fortune remains untouched. Plus, Andromeda is a Light supporter who holds no blood-supremacist. Plus, if anything does happen or Lucius makes his move against her, she has enough knowledge of the Muggle world to successfully escape to it thanks to Ted. I just hope Narcissa doesn't convince Lucius to go down that route… we have lost too many wizards as it is…_

It wasn't a secret that the Ministry rushed Sirius's imprisonment into Azkaban. As a member of the House of Black who favored the Light side as well as a member Order of the Phoenix, he was a prime target for removal; it didn't take long for Lucius to force his imprisonment without a trial. Seeing as how all evidence has been removed – including the breaking of Sirius's wand as well as the 'disappearance' of Pettigrew's – the ministry would have no choice but give Sirius Veritaserum to get the whole story which Lucius would never allow it. As the fallback from such a situation arising would be disastrous for the Ministry, the Malfoy's were in a legal bind – a 'Catch-22' as a famous student of his like to put.

"Besides, the issue is a moot point since the Blacks don't have the claim to the Potter Vaults."

This caught everyone off-guard into silence. Even Dumbledore was shocked. _Griphook, what are you talking about?_

Mr. Fudge was first to breach the subject, "Forgive me, but as I understand, it is no secret that the Muggle guardians have been found dead and branded as 'monsters' post-mortem by their press. It is also no secret that Dark Magic was detected at the house by no more than half a dozen credited and trained Aurors. While no evidence of Harry Potter remains have yet to be found, it is more than likely that he too died in the fire and that his ashes scattered to the winds."

Griphook nodded, "In most cases that would be enough to justify transferring his inheritance. However, since Harry is part of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, due to their vast amassed wealth and holdings, certain measures and precautions have been placed into their vaults and holdings like for other families of high standing. While I am not legally allowed to disclose them as they are part of goblin magic and are protected under _your_ wizarding laws, many of them include blood safeguards. One them monitors whether or not members of the Potter House are still alive, which is updated every time a birth and marriage occurs. The system can even track down long-lost decedents the moment they open a new account and deposit blood for identity – but I digress. Due to the Potter's careful and stringent monitoring of their family's members – as well as never banishing or removing any of them – the family tree is as accurate as can be. In saying so, as of the last check that occurred an hour ago, the safeguard still says that Harry Potter lives."

An audible shock went through the crowd as the revelation was told. While no reporter or investigator was present, it wouldn't take long for the news outlets to catch wind of this story.

"Before anyone inquiries further, we at Gringotts have no spell to actually track down Mr. Potter, nor are we at liberty to show this system or give you wizards any access to it. Any attempts to break into Gringotts or legally acquire access to this safeguard for verification will be dealt with severe persecution and action under goblin – not wizard – law."

 _Good, now Lucius has no way to change the outcome unless he actually tracks down Potter and kills him himself_ , though Dumbledore. _Thank god the child still lives._

"We at Gringotts are also under no obligation to report to the Ministry or any other establishment or institution when or how Harry Potter gains access to his vaults in the future - one way or another - unless we freely choose to do so to anyone. If Mr. Potter inquiries about his family in the future, however, we will point him to the appropriate avenue and administrators in the Ministry."

 _Now the Ministry's mistreatment of the goblins will come back to haunt them. Thankfully, he did say they wouldn't tell 'any establishment.' They left a loophole for individuals, not institutions._

"We at Gringotts can reveal that while Harry Potter has come close to dying many times in the last six years, our inquiries and messages to both the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have gone unanswered."

Dumbledore's smile faltered. _Wait, why didn't Griphook inform me?_

During the confusion, Dumbledore caught the look Griphook gave him. _Ahh, now I understand… I really should have read those bylaws that restrict goblin actions and activities._

Madam Amelia Susan Bones, Head of said department and indirect supporter of the Order of Phoenix, was first to speak out, "This is the first time I hear of such messages even being made! I only found about Harry Potter's mistreatment by his guardians when their deaths were investigated."

Griphook looked – confusion evident in his – to Susan Bones, "In that case, I would suggest inspecting your messaging network and office for rats and bugs who eat your mail," stated Griphook nonchalantly, "Maybe they gained a liking to the type of materials we use."

This, like the goblins earlier comment, didn't fall on deaf ears. If it wasn't evident that someone was involved in making sure that Harry's mistreatment and death were never reported, then the corruption in the Ministry went deeper than either Bones or Dumbledore expected.

 _Wait, is there actual corruption within the Ministry that blocked the messages or did whatever that corrupted Harry's home and family have something to do with it? No, that can't be… goblin magic works differently then wizard magic. But they still send messages… didn't they? But who sends the goblin messages to the Ministry?_

"We at Gringotts can also reveal that while Harry Potter is currently alive, he did temporarily die for a few moments a few days back. We confirmed it since his safeguard activated soon after we believed he died and were preparing to message the Ministry."

Lucius jumped at the chance, "If the boy died and the safeguard registered it, doesn't that mean that your spell has been tampered with in some manner to show he is still alive?"

"Mr. Malfoy, be careful in your lies, for if it is revealed that you are spreading derogatory and harmful accusation regarding goblin business, establishments, and workers, you will be fined… _significantly_. Let us not remind you that much of your fortune lays within these walls."

As Lucius backed away from such allegation, Griphook continued speaking to the audience, "Such notions have been accounted for when the safeguard was devised. Since an individual can be resuscitated given enough time, the safeguard has measures in place. Also, a goblin would never work under the orders of a wizard ever again, less you be reminded of your history and war with us."

 _That's a little too close to the chest, Griphook._

"In any case, until the boy does die, all information, wealth, and holdings of the Potter House will be held under the control of Gringotts. Until such time in the future that Harry Potter finds his way to us on his own, or we are forced to search for him when he becomes a legal adult at seventeen. As such, any possible artifacts, spellbooks, lore, or even possible Marriage Contract located in the Potter Vaults is now officially sealed away from all wizards but Harry Potter. Until further notice, we at Gringotts will be working under James Potter's last command regarding the fortune, which is and I quote, 'make it grow.'"

 _Marriage Contract? Well, that's possible, but James and Lily were vehemently against the notion._

Dumbledore wasn't the only one to catch the twitch that appeared on Malfoy's face at that revelation. It wasn't an open secret that goblins are superb at making money through legal investments, be it on the wizard or Muggle side of the world. While the Potter House never had as much political pull as the Malfoy or other Houses, their long time accumulated land and wealth through the generations did make them one of the wealthiest if not the richest wizarding family in Britain. With Gringotts given full rein of the Potter accounts, there is no telling how rich Harry will be in the future.

"With all of this revealed and the options presented to you all, we at Gringotts hope this will be the last time we hear from the Ministry regarding this manner. If and when, however, the Ministry chooses to let Sirius Black have access to the Potter Vault, we will do so."

Lucius didn't even have time to make a grin before the goblin added, "We would like to remind you that we goblins have ways to determine if an individual is not who they claim to be or under someone else's control. Anyone who tries to gain access to any vault other than their own - through methods such as the Polyjuice Potion or certain spells - will be killed immediately without trial or hearing. Now, have a good day everyone, and we at Gringotts hope to see you again for continued business."

* * *

 _Same day – Hogwarts Headmaster Office_

"I honestly didn't expect the investigation to go the way it did."

"Indeed Albus. Lucius's avenue to the Potter fortune has been caught off at both ends."

Albus looked from behind his desk at Snape, standing at the window, "How so?"

"The Ministry will never admit they made a mistake in persecuting Sirius, no matter how much Lucius tries to make them. Any spell or potion Lucius uses on Sirius to get access to Potter's Vault will be dealt with accordingly by the goblins. Even if Sirius and Bellatrix die of natural causes in Azkaban – however loosely that is defined in that place – Narcissa still won't have access to the fortune until Harry dies, making the death of the later too unnecessary. As such, as Griphook put it, only Harry and Harry alone has access to the vaults – until of course, he dies."

Dumbledore nodded, "And since the Ministry doesn't want to lose face, Sirius's trial can never be held – his arrest was too public and would raise too many questions."

Snape thought about it for a second, "Unless new evidence comes up after all these years, there is no legal loophole the Ministry – or Lucius - can use to remove Sirius from Azkaban. Even the use of Veritaserum on him would have to be recorded, which could fall into the hands of reporters or the uncorrupted officials in the Ministry, raising inquiries as to why Sirius would be interrogated so late in his imprisonment. It will also most likely cause him to reveal the identities of any Death Eater he is aware, Lucius being the prime candidate for the first name that comes out of his mouth."

"Unless of course, they found out through other methods who the secret-keeper was to prove his inocence."

Snape looked back at the pondering professor, "What do you mean Albus?"

"Many in the order – myself and Remus included – were kept in the dark regarding who was James and Lily's secret keeper. Even the ritual for the Fidelius Charm – which I helped set up – was finalized by Lily and whoever was there with her. However, when Sirius confronted Pettigrew in the street, in was widely reported by the survivors that Pettigrew screamed that Black was the Potter secret-keeper. He was either lying about that…"

"…Or he knew that Sirius was there when the spell was cast." deduced Snape.

"That or Black told him, which is unlikely. As such, if Lucius or his cronies want to release Sirius without a trial, they would either have to find Pettigrew alive in hiding or find some sort of evidence to prove that Sirius wasn't the secret-keeper."

Snape nodded, "Again, unlikely, as that would still require the use of Veritaserum on Sirius since Pettigrew is dead."

Dumbledore pulled his beard, "I wouldn't be so sure of that. Pettigrew was a Marauder - he could have had something up his sleeve in such a circumstance. They did only find a finger at the blast site and nothing else."

"Possible but unlikely. In any case, should we send someone to search for the boy?"

"I politely inquired Griphook to inform me the next time Harry Potter comes close to dying this time around. Bones has already begun sending out search squads for Harry, starting from his town and spreading outwards. If they don't find him in Britain, they will spread out further until proper governments and nations are asked for assistance."

Snape looked at the headmaster in surprise, "You actually think he will go to another continent?"

"I don't know what to think anymore Severus. I'm not sure if the boy is in hiding or if he has been kidnapped – I simply don't have the facts to work with."

Snape paused for a second, "I could make… inquiries… to see if any of Lucius's associates were responsible for what happened to Harry."

"No need – Lucius would have found the fools and disposed of them by now. I would, however, prefer if you made inquiries in the Wizard Underground."

Now Snape was flummoxed, "May I ask why?"

"If Harry is as damaged as I believe, he wouldn't trust any adult or someone his age. If he goes into hiding, he will most likely go underground. One way or another, he will find his way to the wizarding world – with his magic, it is very possible."

Snape nodded, "I'll make contact with my associates, but don't expect much if Harry is still with the Muggles."

"I don't think that will be an issue," said Professor McGonagall as she entered the office, "If my inquiries are correct, we have to get the word out to Amelia Bones as soon as possible."

Dumbledore got up from his desk, "What's wrong Minerva?'

"After you told me what Griphook said about their safeguards, I decided to check the Book of Admittance for Harry's location, since it tells me where to send the acceptance letters. Unfortunately, when I attempted to locate Harry's name, I couldn't find it."

Snape quickly interrupted, "Could it be that he hasn't been recorded in the book yet?"

"No," said Dumbledore, "I checked it right after Voldemort died at his hands – he was in there. Secret-Keepers may be able to hide the location of a future student but not their names."

As Minerva and Snape observed the pacing headmaster, Professor McGonagall was first to ask, "Do you have some sort of theory, Albus?"

"It possible that the book erased his name if Harry Potter… didn't consider himself to be 'Harry Potter'"

"Please elaborate headmaster," approached Snape. "The book can find anyone – obliviated or under a false name."

"That's is because the person's being knows it is their name. A name is special – it magically binds us to what we are, to distinguish us from others. Its repetition ingrains it into out being, distinguishing us from those who have similar names. But if a person isn't exposed to their name enough times…"

"Then their being would have no ties to it… You think that his guardians never used his name in all these years?"

"It is more likely that Harry himself has shunned away from his name or forgotten it with time. His blood apparently still remembers – as evident by Gringotts – but he doesn't. There is, however, a much more frightening alternative."

Minerva sat down in one of the chairs before asking, "What is it?"

"It is possible – however small – that Harry's magical essence has been changed."

Snape quickly turned, "I thought that was impossible."

Dumbledore quickly pointed at Snape, "For an adult it is, but children are still very malleable and not set in their ways. The dark magic present at the Dursley's house may have something to do with, but until someone finds out otherwise, something has altered Harry's fundamental being but not his blood."

"This will make finding him even harder if your theory is correct – Amelia Bones is using tracking spells specifically from what little magic they located concentrated in his cupboard. Unless we know what the contagion is, we will have no magical way to search for him even with the blood we do have."

"Indeed Severus. I shall inform Misses Bones immediately. Now, until something new arises, please return to teaching your classes until further notice."

As Minerva and Snape were leaving, Dumbledore grabbed hold of the Potions teacher as Professor McGonagall left, "Severus, I know you don't have fond memories of James, and he was indirectly responsible for Lily's death... Please don't hold Harry responsible."

"Albus…"

"I know you, Severus, better than you may think. The child will most likely look like his father but with his mother's eyes. Do you really think that despite everything that was revealed about the boy, that you could look at his face and not recall your hate for his father?"

Snape paused at that, calming thinking about it for a long time, "I wish that I could say that I wouldn't treat him harshly Albus, but I know myself too well. I play too many roles for the side of Dark to show any favoritism to anyone outside their families. You have already seen the hate I receive from the students because of the act I put on before them… But I know of his importance to the prophecy, so I will subdue my disdain for his father and only remind myself that he is Lily's son."

Dumbledore frowned at Snape reveal, but it was expected, "May you have fortune in finding the child."

As Snape left the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was left alone with no one but the Sorting Hat and Fawkes, his phoenix. Dumbledore went back to his desk to prepare his letter to Amelia Bones but paused before considering a thought that dragged its claws through his mind.

"Tell me, Fawkes," asked Dumbledore of his bird, "should I restructure my plans with the Longbottom child or should I have hope for Harry Potter?"

* * *

 _July, 2011 – Hogwarts_

Dumbledore stared out the window of his office, observing the sun setting.

It has been a difficult few years, to say the least. The press had gotten wind of what occurred with Harry Potter, and the public was outraged. While the constant inquiry to Gringotts confirmed that the child was still alive, some felt that what occurred was the work Death Eaters in hiding rather than the act of Harry's guardians. When news broke out – despite Lucius's efforts – that his wife in all essence _demanded_ to inherit the Potter fortune, the theory gained significant ground. To this day, despite the efforts of Lucius and the like, banning Muggle-born wizards from entering Hogwarts based on Harry's case fell on deaf ears. If anything, Fudge's effort to try to appease the people that Harry was safe _somewhere_ made it worse.

It was even fair to say that people were more aware of the corruption in Ministry then anytime in the past. When Rita Skeeter caught the order of inheritance regarding the House of Black, she made inquiries. When the _Daily Prophet_ wouldn't print her expose regarding Sirius having no trial nor any kind of investigation done in all the years due to the Ministry's request, _The Quibbler_ was more than happy to publish it free-of-charge. While some did push as to why this matter wasn't looked into, the Ministry simply tried to deflect the attention to some other issues. In any case, the Death Eaters that managed to elude justice by claiming the Imperius Curse had been used on them and that worked in the Ministry were kept under careful watch by Amelia Bones agents in secret – as far as Dumbledore was aware.

 _The Quibbler_ also gained a reputation of writing whatever the _Daily Prophet_ wouldn't publish, which was basically anything the Ministry didn't want the public to know. In essence, _The Quibbler_ became the default paper for whistleblowers everywhere (5). The constant threat of being exposed made the corrupted officials much more scrupulous and careful in their everyday dealings, but a small minority still managed to get caught. Over time, honest members of the Ministry managed to get promoted to somewhat beneficial positions. Dumbledore always remembered fondly when Arthur Weasley was promoted to head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects when it was revealed that his supervisor was using his position to hide the magical holdings of certain individuals – one, in particular, being Lucius Malfoy. The raid that Arthur led and the subsequent removal of said items put a dent in the Malfoy fortune via fines. On the plus side, the Weasley's were no longer as poor as everyone made them out to be, what with Arthur's promotion and bonus for his good work. The reveal that he was also a Black to the wizarding masses was also a small boost in his social standings. (6)

While Amelia Bones did put up a decent effort and managed to convince most magical governments to aid in Britain's search for Harry, nothing came up in all these years. Eventually, she had no choice but to declare it a cold case and send the files to the goblins if they ever decide to search for the boy when he turned seventeen. Based on what Dumbledore could gather from Griphook, that earned her some respect in the goblin community for her concern for the child. Say what you will about goblins, but they adore children regardless of race and will defend them with their lives.

Speaking of goblins, there was no improvement in the relationship between them and wizards. Due to Lucius numerous cases and proceedings to gain access to Potter's Vault despite the clear and evident hurdles, Gringotts had closed all but minimum communications with the wizarding community. While they still employed wizards in their institutions – such a curse breakers and ward makers – and maintained their bank's services, no communications or messages were sent to and from the goblins. Only Dumbledore and select few still had some ways to talk with the higher echelons of goblin society, but even he had trouble getting Griphook to talk at times.

In the end, no matter how much Albus Dumbledore wanted to deny and never mention out loud, Harry Potter's 'death' has done more good for the Wizarding World of Great Britain than he could ever anticipate. With many former Death Eaters under constant watch and some removed from their post in the Ministry, the corruption has slowly begun to subside. It was still there, but Albus had to note that the likes of Lucius have started to become more patient in their actions. Also, if his math was correct, the last remaining children of Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters would be admitted this year to Hogwarts. Granted, they will all most likely go to Slytherin and make the next seven years rather difficult for the staff. However, at the current rates of admission for Muggle-born and half-blood students, pure-blood wizard children will soon become a very small minority of the population. This is not what Dumbledore expected to be the new norm – he had such dreams for the Wizarding World – but if it was the price of peace, then he will learn to deal with it. Thankfully, Dumbledore's current working theory was that eventually, when the children of Death Eater's graduated, the House would return to its original qualities of resourcefulness, cunning, and ambition, so acceptance would increase. By that logic, when any future blood purists arrive again, they would be the minority rather than the majority of the House. While the parents always had the option of sending their children to Durmstrang Institute in Scandinavia, anyone who did so from Hogwarts or Britain would be admitting that they were blood purists and possible future Death Eaters.

Looking back at everything that had occurred, there were days that Albus though that Harry's disappearance was more than just an accident. A theory posted by _The Quibbler_ a while ago speculated that Harry was removed from his house by some special squad of Aurors who then destroyed the family who was guarding him, leaving enough evidence to place blame on Death Eaters who escaped persecution. They used the fact that Harry was still alive somewhere - in hiding - and of the recent reveals in the Ministry regarding its corruption. While Dumbledore had to agree that the theory held merit, a simple conversation with Amelia Bones revealed that she has already looked into it with a decent use of Veritaserum and interrogation. She did note that it would explain how Harry managed to stay hidden for so long, even with the possible magical contamination Dumbledore proposed. As a joke, she told Dumbledore to ask the Unspeakables if they had anything to do it.

He was yet to hear back from them which worried him nonstop. Damn that Unspeakable Algie Longbottom! If it weren't for the fact that he 'dropped' Neville from the second story window of the Longbottom Manor to his 'death,' the boy would still not have access to his magic. Results notwithstanding, Augusta still hates the man despite his results and various gifts to Neville afterward as a sign for forgiveness.

Dumbledore's train of thought was interrupted when Minerva entered his office, "All the letters have been replied to, Albus."

"Was his name among them? He would be eleven soon."

Minerva shook her head, "I am afraid not."

Dumbledore was about to turn around again when Snape entered the office, "I wouldn't be so sure Minerva. One letter caught my attention."

Now Dumbledore was interested, "How so, Severus?"

"It was delivered by owl from America – from Massachusetts, to be precise."

Now the teachers were stumped. While it is not unheard of for people of British blood to be accepted from across the pond, it was rare enough to be counted on one hand since they usually went to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The fact that the individual was in the state where the school was located made it even more confusing. "What's the child's story?"

Snape shook his head, "That's just it – there is no story. While I don't know the exact location of the recipient, my inquiries with MACUSA regarding any individual named Harry MacLeod in Massachusetts have brought up nothing."

Minerva quickly turned to the dark haired teacher, " _Harry_ MacLeod?"

Snape nodded, "Yes, the name did catch my attention as well."

Dumbledore thought about it, "It's possible… Harry may have not known his family name all those years ago but still… He has been hiding all this time in a place literally an Apparition away from the center of magical learning. How has no wizard seen him yet? Furthermore, how was he even snuck into the country without any possible paperwork or magic use?"

"They could be hiding him themselves." added Professor McGonagall.

"Don't jump on _The Quibbler_ theory, Minerva."

Albus gave Snape a glare, "Severus, please. I know that _The Quibbler_ isn't your favorite paper, but it has done good work in recent times."

"Forgive me, Albus, that came out worse than I expected. In any case, the name could just be a coincidence – he was probably named after the actions of Mr. Potter made news across the sea. Maybe he is a son who was born in Britain and moved to Massachusetts in the last decade. Maybe he is a Muggle-born who has strong British ties."

"All valid arguments. Until we learn more of the boy or actually see him, let us hold our theories until a later point in time. For now, I have to raise an issue that made bring us some trouble in the coming year. Do you remember my friend Nicolas Flamel?"

* * *

 _July 31st, 2011_

Hagrid never enjoyed traveling through London. The Muggles always gave him such odd looks. He just assumed because it was because of his height. This was partially correct, it was more of an issue regarding how he looked rather than his girth.

In any case, Hagrid tried to bring as little attention to himself as possible on his way to the Leaky Cauldron and then Diagon Alley. He was given strict instruction by Dumbledore to head to Gringotts Vault 713 for the Stone, and he wasn't to be followed. After he had retrieved the Stone, he was to return at his earliest convenience.

" **Always get lost around here. Where is that damn pub now?"** Hagrid spoke to himself out loud. He didn't however, expect a response.

"If you are looking for the Leaky Cauldron, I'll take you to it."

Hagrid had to look around for whoever spoke. Took him a moment to look down at an unusually dressed lad looking up at him.

"Sorry, you stand out too much to be a Muggle and my inquiries revealed that the only way to Diagon Alley for my school supplies are through the Leaky Cauldron. Are you going there as well?"

Rubeus Hagrid took a moment to study the child in front of him, who by his admission revealed that he was around eleven years old and just accepted to Hogwarts. He noted that he was a bit tall for his age, a little too wide in the shoulders – not enough to stand out, but enough that the Quidditch Captains would keep an eye on him in the future.

His appearance was a different story.

Hagrid couldn't help but think that the boy did everything in his power to be remembered. He may have not known much about Muggle fashion, but he knew enough from students that what the boy was wearing was odd. He wore black combat boots, green jeans, a red hoodie, strange black gloves that covered his hands, and had what looked like a pair of blue-white headphones that newly entering Muggle-raised students used for music before they stop working at Hogwarts. The child had no skin - or any part of his body - revealed except for his face.

Hagrid to agree that the female student body would find his looks rather flattering with time – not that he would actually know. His dark black hair was combed over, both ears were pierced with some oddly marked jewelry, and his eyes – as the half-giant realized – were the same color as his pants: dark green. His teeth, based on the wide smile he was giving, were white and perfect, and his face was free of imperfections, save for a scar that seemed to have healed some time ago over his right eye. He noticed that it was even present on his eyelid when the child blinked.

" **I umm… yes, I am looking for the Leaky Cauldron. Surprised a first-year lad knows his way to it, though."**

The child laughed at Hagrid as he started leading the way, "I came from America after I received my acceptance letter, so I had to ask around before I figured it out. A Professor McGonagall wrote me the name of the pub after I requested it, but I declined to have someone guide me there."

" **Oh, so you are Muggle-born then. Wonder why the letter went to America though?"**

"Well I was born here and adopted before I moved to America, but I can see how that can be confusing."

Hagrid got a little flustered at that reveal, " **Oh, um… sorry about that comment, I didn't mean to… you know…"**

Harry raised his hand to stop the man, "Don't worry about it. I never knew my birth parents, and I am happy with the people who adopted me."

Hagrid realized something, " **So, you don't know your heritage then?"**

The child looked up, "Is that a big deal in Britain?"

" **I try not to pay attention to it, but Hogwarts accept everyone: pure-blood, half-blood, and Muggle-born. I myself am half-blood, so I don't think anyone will make a big deal out of it. Some pure-bloods may give you some trouble, since… you know… they care about family history and such."**

The child gave Hagrid a feral smile as they approached the pub, "Don't worry sir, 'trouble' is my middle name."

Hagrid realized that he never introduced himself, " **Oh, I am sorry, where are my matters? My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. What's your name lad?"**

The child raised his hand to shake the giant's, "Harry. Harry MacLeod. A pleasure to meet you."

* * *

 **(1) Never mentioned in the books if his birth was registered or not. I may or may not have done this for a reason.**

 **(2) Dumbledore is ignoring inbreeding in this example. Again, done for a reason.**

 **(3) You can see this however you like – separate laws between Goblins and Wizards, or abuse of power/corruption by ignoring Griphook's claims regarding Sirius's innocence.**

 **(4) All the genealogic information I provided IS CORRECT. The only thing I changed was making James the son of** Charlus **and Dorea, instead of** Fleamont **and Euphemia.**

 **(5) I am not going to try and redeem Rita, but I always found it odd how the _Quibbler_ (even as a self-published paper) managed to maintain itself unless people actually took it seriously. This at least provides a decent reason for it.**

 **(6) I like Arthur, so sue me – guy needed a break. Besides, according to sources, while Arthur has two (supposedly dead) brothers since he is the head of the family, he is also a Black AND his kids are Prewetts through Molly. That's three freaking pure-blood families running through their seven kids – how the hell** were **they undesirable? Ignore their poverty, the kids could still have inherited Wizengamot seats to vote on policies (every vote counts).**


	15. A Shopping Trip Like Any Other

**Chapter 15: A Shopping Trip Like Any Other**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Oh boy. This chapter will definitely come back to haunt my dreams in the future. Besides the fact I again took some literal liberties, the fact I published this much so soon after my previous chapter shouldn't reflect my future publishing rate.**

 **Just to get it out of the way - I had a day off, and it seems that writing about the Potterverse is easier than the Supernatural-verse.**

 **ENJOY THIS CHAPTER.**

* * *

Harry didn't really expect things to go so smoothly once he got his letter from the Wizarding School in Britain.

Crowley put up the greatest resistance, mainly because the school was across the ocean. With his position as the King of Hell, he couldn't just go and visit Harry in Europe without a good enough reason.

Gabriel was easier to convince. It could have been because he was more aware of the abilities that Harry possessed. In all fairness, Harry just suspected that Gabriel wanted him there because of his past experiences in London. Harry knew that the archangel always gave those who had it coming their comeuppance – and since Britain was so entrenched in old families and blood feuds, there was never a shortage of victims for him to choose from.

Harry had to agree with that logic – especially since he has steadily begun to tip toward a trickster persona rather than his demon one. His time healing during his 'incarceration' had caused his partially tri-nature to slowly even out, eventually mellowing out his demon one. He could still use chaos and was still bound by his rules, but his more… demonic impulses… have become easier to control. Sure, Harry still felt pangs at times to indulge in his – as he likes to put it – 'Businessman' persona, but he managed to control it ever since he came back to the world of the living. His angel impulses – his 'Trickster' persona – was much more easily manageable and pleasant to use (1). His wizard side was somewhere in the middle, a bridge between the two personas as it were.

Anyway… The process went as smoothly as Harry hoped. He read the letter, asked his family for permission, and wrote back. He cordially accepted the invitation and asked for a method from this… Professor McGonagall… to go buy his supplies. She responded very soon – by owl again no less – and told him everything he needed to: how to get to the pub, how to open the door, about Gringotts, and some stuff regarding the Wizarding World. She wanted to send a guide to him for assistance, but when Harry replied and confirmed that he was aware of the magical world, she understood that he didn't need much advice.

Harry studied graphology more out of curiosity than necessity, but he had to admit that at times, it gave a very clear if not simple outline of an individual. Professor McGonagall writing was very old-fashioned, but she gave enough for Harry to work with. The average letter size indicated that she was well-adjusted and adaptable, the semi-narrow spacing was a toss-up between being introversive and extroversive, but the narrow 'l' loops did make it seems that she tended to restrict herself. The slashed dot over the 'i' did indicate that she didn't have the patience for inadequacy – necessary as a teacher – and based on her long crosses for 't,' she was very determined and enthusiastic. This, combined with her connected letters, heavy pressure, and slow writing speed, made Harry suspect that he would enjoy having her as a teacher. (2)

Since London was five hours ahead of Massachusetts, Harry wanted to go to the Wizarding World on his birthday – kind of like a gift from the universe, as it were. Gabriel was against it at this point, since he always planned grand birthday celebrations, but Harry said he would have more than enough to make it back in time for the party.

Seeing as he had nothing better to do at 3:00 AM on a Sunday, Harry got himself all dressed up, got his iPhone to play 'Queen' – oddly enough – and he teleported all the way to Britain in one go. If he were younger, he would have had to make a stop in Iceland beforehand as an intermediary, but he was older and stronger than then when he was a child.

The moment he got to Britain, he quickly started to look around. Gabriel wasn't kidding about the age of the damn place – energy permeated every building and foundation of the city. As he walked around, he began to notice odd signatures from certain individuals. Harry didn't give it much thought – figured they were just some low-level practitioners – until he saw an unusually giant man walking around, looking for something.

Now normally, Harry wouldn't indulge in petty human ignorance or focus in on what made people different from each other – attention to skill color and the like is what made most of the world's problems, to begin with. But the man was GIANT! If he lived in America and could move, he would have been drafted by every football team under the sun for any sum of money (3). When Harry got a good look at his soul, he noticed that he wasn't standard human flavor either. He definitely had wizard heritage, but there was something… supernatural about his soul as well. If giants were, in fact, real, Harry would have placed money that he had some of their blood in him.

Harry started to notice that the man was following a path to a magic hotspot Harry was feeling. Based on the instructions that Professor McGonagall gave him, he seemed to be going to the Leaky Cauldron as well. He appeared to be a little lost, though.

" **Always get lost around here. Where is that damn pub now?"** the man spoke to himself out loud.

 _Now if that isn't an invitation for assistance, then I don't know what is. Let's help out the poor soul…_

"If you are looking for the Leaky Cauldron, I'll take you to it."

* * *

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record store on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside. Didn't even give Harry a chance to figure out what kind of wards were used to put the place into 'ignore it' limbo.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. One was even reading a Stephen Hawking book for some reason, chuckling. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

" **Can't Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business,"** said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle. Harry was strong, but the giant didn't realize his own strength.

"Who's the kid?" asked the bartender.

"Oh, sorry, he isn't my Hogwarts business. Funny enough, he is a first year who found me and led me here. Forgot the bloody directions again."

Harry walked up to the bartender, "Harry MacLeod sir. A pleasure to meet you."

The bartender shook his hand, "Got an American accent there boy. What brings you all the way to Britain for Hogwarts?"

Harry shrugged, "Don't ask me – ask my dead parents. I was adopted and moved to America."

The bartender flinched, "Oh, sorry about that…"

"Don't mind it. I got used to it a long time ago."

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

" **Professor Quirrell!"** said Hagrid. **"Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."**

"M-M-MacLeod," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you howp-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

" **Must get on with our business then. Come on, Harry."**

Harry followed Hagrid behind the bar, waiting to get out of earshot of the patrons before inquiring Hagrid about Quirrell. He didn't get a good look at him, but something felt... off about his future teacher. If his knowledge of tropes was any indication, the stuttering fool is usually the one who had a great dark secret he hid from everyone. (4)

"Is he always that nervous?"

" **Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studying out of books but then he took a year off to get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit of trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's my umbrella?"**

Vampires? Hags? Harry knew the first but not the later, and unless hags knew magic, vampires couldn't really break a man that badly (5). Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up…two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Harry seriously regret not paying attention to what Hagrid did with his umbrella – he seriously doubted it was just as simple as pressing a specific stone combination.

" **Welcome,** " said Hagrid, " **to Diagon Alley.** "

Hagrid grinned at Harry's amazement at the sight of all the people and shops. They stepped through the archway. Harry quickly looked over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into a solid wall.

Harry wished he had more eyes to see everything. The energies that permeated the area were intoxicating and beautiful to Harry. He turned his head in every direction as he and Hagrid walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad.…"

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -." There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, and globes of the moon.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

" **Yeah, you'll be needing one,** " said Hagrid, " **but we have to get your money first.** "

This made Harry finally pause and catch Hagrid's attention, " **Something wrong Harry?"**

"No, no. It's just that I need to find this wizarding bank called Gringotts and open up an account."

Hagrid looked at Harry confused, " **Didn't you mention that you knew about the wizarding world? I thought your family would have an account in America, wouldn't you?"**

Harry smiled. _The man is simple, but he doesn't miss the minor details when they matter._ "I am afraid that I am aware of the _supernatural_ world, not the _magical_ world: big difference."

" **How so?"**

"From what I could gather, the Wizarding World separated itself from the Muggle world a long time ago. But that doesn't mean the other magic styles and creatures in the world separated with it."

" **Ahh, I see what you mean. You know of magic and magical creatures and you are involved with them. But to never meet a wizard in all this time – even in passing?"**

Harry shrugged, "Well, your people do keep themselves private for a reason. I believe you call it the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?"

Hagrid nodded, " **I see what you mean. Well, in any case, I am going there anyway on business, so I'll take you there with me."**

The pair walked a little while – Harry drawing the most glares due to his clothing choices – but no one actually paid attention. Harry could only deduce that Hagrid must have been a guide to first years before, so the people born-and-raised in the Wizarding World must have been used to these things by now. Eventually, they approached a grand building.

" **Gringotts** ," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a diminutive creature that Harry smiled as he recognized from literature.

" **Yeah, that's a goblin** ," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head and half shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

" **Like it says, you would be mad to try and rob them** ," said Hagrid.

 _Noted: Don't piss off the goblins that hold your money,_ thought Harry to himself.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and they were in a vast marble hall. About them a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

" **Morning,"** said Hagrid to a free goblin. " **I've come on business for Professor Dumbledore. I have a letter here explaining everything."** Hagrid reached into one of his many pockets and gave the goblin the sealed envelope. " **It's about the You-Know-What in Vault seven hundred and thirteen.** "

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to the vault. And the child?"

Hagrid looked at Harry, who nodded for Hagrid to take the lead. " **He is a new student going to Hogwarts this September. He needs to open an account in Gringotts to get money for his supplies."**

"I have items for currency exchange if that makes things easier," said Harry.

The free goblin nodded, "Normally Griphook handles new accounts, but we can transfer his access to Vault 713 to another goblin to assist you, Mr. Hagrid."

 _Mr. Hagrid? What's his first name then?_

" **Thank you. Would you like to wait for me, Harry, or can you buy your supplies on your own afterward?"**

"Well… I am new to this whole 'Wizard World' thing… but it 'd be good to do it with someone else. In any case, you will most likely wait for me."

The free goblin noted the conversation, "We can set up a location for you two to meet up later if you would like."

Harry turned to the goblin, "That would be lovely – thank you very much for your attentive service."

The goblin was shocked by the pleasantry in Harry's tone, but he took it in stride. "Griphook! Please take this child to open a new account."

* * *

"So, Mr…"

"MacLeod. Harry MacLeod."

Both Harry and Griphook were sitting in a locked office, with what Harry could only assume were privacy and anti-detection wards all around them. They were going through the paperwork to open an account for Harry…

"Now, what would you like to exchange for currency? We do take Muggle money."

Harry smiled, "That's okay – my family prefers the more trusted currency of precious goods and gems. They tend to barter more often than actually buy something."

Harry reached inside his hoody pocket – which was enchanted by Harry's unique brand of magic – and took out a gold bar, gently giving it to the goblin.

The goblin started to inspect the bar, "Very old, but pure gold. At current market value – minus a fee for melting and printing of new galleons –this 400 oz. gold bar is estimated to be around $480,000 US dollars. Accounting for the current rate of exchange, it comes to around 78,175 Galleons – give or take a few Sickles and Knuts. Congratulations, with this one bar, you would be promoted directly to our high-holdings branch."

"Does the age and marking not cause an issue?"

Goblin checked the bar again, "While the age is a factor, the purity is still good. The swastika on the bar is a non-issue since it will be melted anyway. Do you have more of these?" (6)

Harry gave a goblin feral smile – something that didn't deter the goblin. In fact, as far as Harry could tell, the smile actually made the goblin seem interested. "You do have more bars. You must be a very wealthy Muggle-born wizard."

"Wouldn't know – my parents died in Britain when I was too young to remember them."

This made Griphook pause. "Gringotts is the only banking establishment in Great Britain. All wizards who register at our bank have to deposit blood for registry and verification."

Harry realized what the goblin was implying, "Well then, I believe that… a small charge from my future account will be enough for a kind goblin like you to see if my blood matches someone else's in your extensive accounts. An extra tip will be given if it is kept quiet."

Griphook smiled, "That won't be necessary – we goblins value our client's privacy. If we do find the account of your parents, your possible surviving relatives will not be notified without your permission," Griphook pulled out a scroll that he rolled out for the boy, "If you would be so kind?"

Harry nodded, his smile slightly faltering. He started taking off one of his gloves, when he stopped for a second, "I should mention that my hands are damaged – is that going to be an issue?"

Griphook shook his head, "Only the blood matters, not where it comes from."

Harry nodded as he took off his glove. Griphook looked at the hand but wasn't bothered by what he saw. (7)

He watched as the child took out his own pocket knife and swiftly cut across his hand. The goblin noted that the boy's movement seemed practiced, especially when he clenched his hand into a fist to get it dripping.

Not a moment passed before the scroll instantly glowed. "Is that a good thing?" asked Harry as he was putting his glove back on.

Griphook was visibly shaking and grinning in his chair. "The scroll links directly to our priority cases for lost wizards and noble families. However, there is only one name on that list – one that even the Ministry won't note the recognition of from our establishment. We have been waiting for you for a very long time... Harry _Potter_."

Harry's brow raised, "Huh… so my family name is Potter…"

Shock registered on the goblin's face, "Did you really not know? There were reports that you were tortured by your guardians…"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?" sat up Harry in a rush, almost reaching out for the goblin in panic.

"You are famous, Mr. Potter. But… your scar… where is your lightning scar? It should be proof that you defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"

"Who?"

"Do you really not know?"

"Do I really need to remind you that I was tortured for six years by my Muggle relatives before moving to America? I had absolutely no access to the Wizarding World prior to getting my acceptance letter.

As Harry calmed down and sat back down, Griphook began to get new paperwork from his magical cabinet. "Well, if you must know the story then… In simplest terms, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – or Voldermort as he was actually called – was a Dark Wizard who started the First Wizarding War back in the 90's (8). Long story short, your parents were part of a group fighting against his regime and persecution against none pure-blood wizards. Due to some reason beyond even _our_ understanding, they became priority targets when you were born. They managed to hide for some time, but eventually, he tracked them down and killed them. However, something happened when he attempted to do the same to you, Mr. Potter. For some reason, the spell reverberated back, killing him, ending the war, and leaving an orphan hero with nothing more than the lightning bolt shaped scar you no longer possess. How did you remove it? We know of no magic that could have removed that dark mark."

Harry sat there open-mouthed before regaining his composure, "Dark mark indeed. My adoptive family had it removed soon after they got me to America. I was out of it for about two months, but I got better, as you can clearly see," as Harry waved at himself, "Is that actually what happened? I mean, was there actually someone there to see it happen…"

Griphook shook his head as he prepared the paperwork, "No. The story was extrapolated on what evidence could be gathered with magic. As you were too young to possibly recall such a thing, I can understand your hesitation in believing it. Granted, it is what is published in the books, but unless someone else comes out to say what happened, it will remain as such (9). I do have to ask – what did happen that day when your guardian's house burned down?"

Harry gave the goblin an angry glare, "If I tell you, do you have to report it to… this Ministry?"

Griphook spat on the ground at the mention of the institution, "We goblins have been in decline in our relationship with the Ministry ever since the surviving members of your family kept pestering us for access to your family vaults."

"VAULTS? As in plural? How wealthy were my parents?"

"It was your father's side of the family – the Ancient and Noble House of Potter – that was rich. When you disappeared, you were presumed dead by the Wizarding World, your surviving relative on a distant branch – now the wife of one Lucius Malfoy – attempted to gain access to your funds. However, our personal magic told us otherwise. We are sorry we couldn't track you down sooner – we needed to wait until you were a legal wizard adult before we were allowed to search for you."

"No worries. At least you kept my vaults safe all this time. If I may ask, you invested and made a lot of profit with it didn't you?"

The goblin smiled again, "What gave it away Mr. Potter?"

Harry's smile returned as well, "The joy of getting me back – I doubt you do that to all your customers."

"Well, you are very cordial to us goblins. Plus, we did think you were going to be a new wealthy accountant to our establishment before we realized who you were. Do you still want to add your money to your _new_ account?"

Harry thought about, "How wealthy am I exactly?"

Griphook checked the paperwork, "While your land holdings and artifacts – which include books and the like - can't be gauged in monetary worth, your financial holdings as far as I can tell… If converted to US currency… comes to a little over $400,000,000." Griphook smiled at Harry's response, "we had a few good years investing your family money based on your father's final instructions."

"Wow… that's… a tidy sum."

Griphook looked at the boy, "Based on your subdued reaction, can we assume that your adoptive family is even wealthier?"

Harry tilted his head, "Maybe not in actual monetary holdings, but they have _A LOT_ of pull in America. But if this gold bar is any indication – as _I_ considered it a simple deposit – you can guess how wealthy they are."

"Indeed. So what did happen on that day?"

Harry grimaced as he recalled the memory, "Griphook, while I am thankful for the information you have given me regarding my family and access to my family vaults, I am afraid that I can't tell you what happened since and on that day."

As the goblin was about to nod in disapproval, Harry continued, "I can tell you, however," which piqued the goblin's interest, "that I was rescued by one of my adoptive parents. He was from America, in Britain for business at the time, so he wasn't aware of my fame in any way – especially since I never knew my family name for him to check up later. Basically, he saw what was happening to me in that house, and he took actions to rectify the situation."

Griphook gave Harry a look indicating he understood the boy's reticence to recount the events of that day, "I see… Well, seeing as we at Gringotts value our clients privacy, your return to the Wizarding World will not be revealed unless you choose to do so yourself. However, if Lucius Malfoy manages to find a way around the law, we will have to reveal that you have returned and as such, the only beneficiary to your family vaults to prevent him from doing so."

"Based on your story and what I gathered, he has been trying to do so for almost five years. If he hasn't had success yet due to you boys, he won't have it anytime soon."

Griphook nodded, "So… would you like to be taken to your vaults?"

Harry was about to agree when a thought struck him, "Griphook… if I do go see my vaults in person, what would be the potential fallout?"

Griphook thought about it, "Well… the opening of any of your vaults would be written down and the magic will be recognized…"

"Is that record available to the public?"

"Not particularly but…"

"And if say someone saw that record or tracked the magic signature down and realized that I – as the last living Potter – was alive and in Britain, what would happen?"

Griphook thought about it, "I can only assume inquiries would be made regarding your existence."

"Less short-term, more long-term and politically inclined."

Realization slowly dawned on Griphook, "They would force you to accept your Lordship since, despite your age, as you are the last Potter as well as The-Boy-Who-Lived, making your _very_ powerful in political and social circles to those who gain your favor."

Hary sighed, "I thought as much. Damn you British and their titles. Can I only assume that if I do _somehow_ inherit my Lordship, there would be some sort of reaction to it?"

Griphook checked the paperwork, "Well…while the wizards do know you are alive, all the alliances that the Potter clan were involved in have died off – most literally, but some just went on without you, making sure their last heirs lived long enough to continue." (10)

Harry nodded, "Good, less work for me."

"You would need to take a seat at Wizengamot but since you are too young, they would either choose someone for you or you would choose someone yourself."

"And since I don't know anyone, they would most likely pick a 'yes man' for whichever side is dominant. Another reason not to get a Lordship. Anything else?"

Griphook checked the stacks, "All the investments done in the Potter name don't require your presence, so you are clear there… All your properties are being taken care off… Your items of value are guarded… Ah, there may be one thing."

Harry raised his eyebrow, "Is it bad?"

"Depends – are you against a marriage contract?"

If Harry could do a spit-take, he would have done it, "What?"

"In all fairness, it was made centuries ago and was probably forgotten by both families, but the ancestors still carried it out due to some misbegotten sense of duty or debt if I was guessing. The only reason it hasn't become active is that you haven't accessed your vaults nor have you taken your Lordship – I suppose you were right to not do so."

Harry thought about, "May I see the contract?"

Griphook gave Harry the parchment which the child read over for a good five minutes. "Was this something Potter's normally did?"

"No. Potters were famously known for marrying due to love rather than some misguided notions of blood-purity or arrangments. Unfortunately, whatever happened to cause that contract being finalized must have been significant enough to warrant such an action."

Harry shrugged, "My ancestor probably saved the life of someone in this family. Thankfully, it only applies if there's an eligible female in need of a husband in this family – so much for progress; damn patriarchs. Thank god there is a loophole."

Griphook looked up, "There is?"

Harry nodded, "Technically, there are two, but that's only because of my unique legal position."

"Do tell, ."

Hary smiled, "I prefer Mr. MacLeod if you don't mind. In any case, this contract is only an issue as long as both of us are single. As long as the other family doesn't remember this contract and if I don't become recognized – magically of course – by the bank or the Ministry, the contract shall remain dormant, and they will most likely arrange another marriage for the girl, putting the fear to rest. Or, if they do remember it, as long as I stay hidden or – God forbid – marry someone else before I am an adult, then the contract remains dormant. In any case, based on the writing, all I have to do is hold out till I am seventeen since it requires the marriage to be carried before either subject is of age."

Griphook scratched his chin, "You are… correct in your assumptions. But what about if the public realizes you are back in the Wizarding World?"

Harry shrugged, "If I do reveal myself – and that is a big if – it would only be through non-magical means. I mean sure, this Wizengamot could potentially argue for me to forcefully to take my Lordship to reveal myself and the like, but since that would require going through you to do some, I am safe. I mean sure, they could _hypothetically_ make someone vote on my behalf, my I doubt the magics of Wizengamot would allow that. And the same applies to the marriage contract – as long as I don't remain acknowledged magically, the contract stays dormant – until of course, I have kids someday, but I doubt that would be any day soon. Worse case scenario, I will probably marry some – what do you call non-magics, Muggles right? – marry a Muggle to shove a middle finger down the Wizengamot collective throats."

Griphook stared at Harry, "Do you really despise wizards so much?"

Harry shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "To be fair, I am against authority and corruption: the fact they are all most likely pure-blood wizards is just a coincidence. In all fairness, I love magic – I own my life and survival to it. In any case, I just want to remain hidden from the masses – who knows the political and economic waves I would cause if I came back to this world."

Griphook nodded, "I see you thought all this through. In any case, the Potter Accounts will remain as they were. We will, of course, carry out whatever decisions you make in regards to them, but there will be some limitations. Is there anything else you would like?"

Harry looked at the gold brick on the table and pushed it toward the goblin before reaching into his pocket to get out three more bars of gold, "Consider this as payment for services rendered, further deposits for my new MacLeod Vault, and for what I am about to request."

Griphook quickly took out an empty scroll and prepped the quill – one gold bar alone, if Harry knew, would put a significant increase in the goblins private accounts. "Proceed."

"To start, I will continue to bank under MacLeod to keep a façade, so I will deposit more money as time goes on. Now for the instructions. First, based on what I have seen in the shops, I would like a special bag of sorts that is significantly larger on the inside. Second, I will need _some_ access to whatever vaults my family left me to withdraw from. I can only deduce that until I am an adult, I won't get full access to my inheritance?" the goblin nodded at Harry's inquiry, "Okay, I will look into later to make sure I don't accidentally trigger anything by accessing them. Third, I need all paperwork regarding my family, their holdings, their belongings, and all transactions that have occurred ever since my parent's death – not because I don't trust you, but because I want to see what you guys did and what my parents left for me. If you invest in Muggle businesses, then my adoptive family may have screwed you over financially one way or another." The goblin looked up at the mention of that, "Like I said, they have _A LOT_ of pull – they make and break governments, not just businesses."

Griphook nodded furiously in understanding, "If I give you the listings of all of our Muggle holdings, would you be able to tell if your family has any plans in motion that would affect them positively and negatively?"

"Certainly. I also need any paperwork or information that you believe I should be aware of – I leave the choosing up to you."

Griphook kept writing, "Should I assume that you wish to take all of these requested items with you?"

"Copies are okay if that won't be too difficult. I'll need time to go through them all. Can I also get an address I can message you personally for future inquiries?"

Griphook wrote out something on a separate scroll, "When you get your personal owl or the services of one, you can contact me at this location."

Harry took the parchment, memorized it, and quickly put it in his pants pocket. "Is there anything else I am missing?"

Griphook paused, "While it seems you addressed all the main things regarding you, we will have to add certain material you should be interested in reviewing. One that will catch your interest is the case – or lack of it - regarding your Godfather, Sirius Black."

Harry's eyes bulged, "I have a Godfather?"

"Yes, but before you ask, I really think you should read everything about him before you start accusing him of abandoning you."

Harry nodded, realizing there was more there than met the eye. "I'll do so when I get the time."

"There also a small matter of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albums Dumbledore."

Harry gave the goblin glare, "Is he going to be a problem?"

"Not in the way you expect. He was a close friend of your family, but he was responsible for sending you to live with your guardians – there's bound to be bad blood there. Granted, he didn't know they were that bad, but you _did_ have other options." (11)

"I'll look into him first before I make my assumptions. If the Ministry is as corrupted as the Muggle government, there is a possibility he did it for my safety and to ensure that the like of this… Lucius Malfoy… didn't get their hands on me."

Griphook nodded, "I wouldn't give Albus that much credit. While he is a great and eccentric wizard – as you will soon find out – and rather calm, he didn't get his posts for being a wise old man. He is prepared for almost any situation and has schemes within schemes. We can only thank the stars that he works for the Light, but your placement with your guardians was doubted by many of his supporters when your… well-being came to light."

"So he is a Chessmaster extraordinaire as it were. But why exactly did you bring him up?"

Griphook put down the quill, "My association with Dumbledore is on friendly terms – he is one of the few wizards still trusted by us goblins. While I can maintain my silence regarding your return, if a situation arises in which your existence _must_ be revealed, I am afraid that I am honor bound to Albus do to so if he asks."

Harry played with fingers at that reveal, "If you don't have to describe how I look like to him, that won't be an issue. I guess I'll have to keep to myself so that I don't pique his curiosity."

"I am afraid you may have done so already. While you no longer look much like you father when he was your age – which is disturbing in its implications – Dumbledore never stopped looking for you. The fact that he knows that you are old enough to attend Hogwarts this year means that he will play close attention to this first-year class to locate you."

"What about other magical schools?"

"They are few and very spread out. Plus, your heritage basically guaranteed your attendance to Hogwarts – which the Book of Admittance did so after you killed Voldemort."

"Huh," shrugged Harry, "Difficult to prove that I am Harry Potter, lack of scar and all."

"That will give him pause, but Albus has been known to, us the Muggles put it, 'think outside the box.'"

"I see your point, Griphook. Fine then, I guess I'll go to Hogwarts incognito – if that is even possible in this case."

Griphook smiled again, "Good choice, Mr. Potter. Now, let us finalize the paperwork and address other issues of interest."

* * *

 _At least the pouch matches my clothes._ When Griphook gave Harry a tiny purple bag with a gold lace, Harry was smart enough not to question the goblin. After getting mountains of paperwork shoved into it, as well as all the galleons currently available in his one accessible vault – which he assured Griphook will be filled with more gold later on – Harry knew that Hagrid has been waiting for him for some time.

" **There you are, Harry. Took your time with Mr. MacLeod, didn't you Griphook?"**

Harry noted that Griphook remained very stoic despite that comment, "Indeed. Mr. MacLeod, or as he prefers to be called Harry, had substantial funds to allocate to his new account."

" **Really now? I guess you won't have any problem buying school supplies then? Do you have your list?"**

"Right here." Harry did a quick check of it to be sure.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM_

 _First-year students will require:_

 _1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

 _2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

 _3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

 _4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

 _Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

 _COURSE BOOKS_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) By Miranda Goshawk_

 _A History of Magic By Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory By Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration By Emeric Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi By Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions By Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them By Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection By Quentin Trimble_

 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_

 _1 wand_

 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

 _1 set glass or crystal phials_

 _1 telescope_

 _1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Lucinda Thomsonicla-Pocus_

 _Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_

" **Good, let us be on our way. Till next time Griphook."**

Harry looked at the goblin, "Till next time as well. You shall hear from me before school starts. I hope to have many… fruitful ventures with goblins in the future."

Griphook couldn't help but give a feral smile, "Till next time as well, Harry. Our conversation has been very illuminating."

As Hagrid and Harry exited the bank, the giant of a man leaned over to whisper to the boy, " **What did you say to the goblin?"**

"What do you mean?"

" **It took Albus years before Griphook referred to him in the first name. You did the same thing in less than an hour."**

Harry smiled, "I guess I said something he wanted to hear."

" **Might as well get your uniform** ," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. " **Listen, Harry, would you mind if I slipped off for a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts**." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling excited.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. She took note of Harry the moment he entered. "Now aren't you a change of scenery. I haven't seen that many colors on one person ever since someone's wand broke mid-charm and everyone around them went multicolored."

Harry laughed at that comment – rare to see someone appreciate his flare.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

Harry noted the short boy next to him – well, short by his standards – before deciding to take a good look at his essence.

He didn't like what he saw.

 _Looks like I have a possible target when I get to Hogwarts._

The boy noted his attention.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley by this diminutive child.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more bored by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family has been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing the boy could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second. He just hoped his anger didn't show.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage— lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's interesting," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"Depends: birth parents are dead, and my adopted family are back in America," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"What do you mean?"

"You birth parents – were they a witch and a wizard?"

"Don't know, since they died before I could ask and all. One of them probably was, maybe both. My adopted family knows magic if that helps."

"But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

Harry didn't enjoy where this conversation was going, "I guess."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's it, your done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool. "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry turned back to the seamstress, "Since you already have my measurements, I will also need your finest selection of casual and dress garbs. Is that possible?"

Madam Malkin smiled, "Certainly. Do you have any preferences?"

Harry smiled, "Surprise me."

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts) while carrying bags of clothes at his sides. Despite what many would say, Harry was, in fact, a shop-a-holic with specific tastes.

* * *

Harry decided to make a stop at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment first to get a top-of-the-line magic trunk. He didn't even bother getting the details for it; he just politely told Wiseacre that he wanted the best trunk they had and that price wasn't a problem. While Hagrid seemed to almost have an aneurysm at what the owner brought him, Harry didn't even flinch when he took out the galleons. The trunk he brought had everything – fireproof, water-resistant, and unbreakable among several other things. Besides being bigger on the inside and very lightweight despite all that you could possibly put in it, it was also magically keyed to only open for certain people. Harry added a few other safety features and the like before finalizing his purchase

Only when they went outside did Hagrid ask, **"Harry, while it is nice to see that you do have money to spare, why do you need such a secure and large trunk?"**

 _Because there is stuff I want to keep secure, duh._ "Because based on the three bookshops I just passed, I am going to go on a large spending spree."

Now while most adults realize that such a comment would terrify them, Hagrid just smiled, " **You're going to be a very unusual student, aren't you?"**

"You have no idea."

* * *

After making stops at Whizz Hard Books and Obscurus Books – where he did indeed buy one of every book and sign up for their owl delivery services for when a new books comes out – Harry finally went to Flourish and Blotts. While the manager argued against Harry buying textbooks for older years, Hagrid was kind enough to point out that the school had no actual policy regarding students buying more advanced textbooks for self-study. (12)

Harry wanted to buy a solid gold cauldron for school, but they did ask for pewter one, so he relented there. He did get a nice set of brass scales for weighing potion ingredients, a set crystal phials, and a collapsible gold telescope – better it then the cauldron. They visited the Apothecary next, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). He considered some stuff for himself, but he just wagered he could pilfer some from school if he needed them.

Outside the Apothecary, Harry's checked his list again. "Just a wand left."

Hagrid gave the boy a look, " **Don't you want to get a pet? Hogwarts does allow them, and with your trunk, that shouldn't be an issue**."

While Harry looked back at the trunk walking behind him – since it was enchanted to do so – on its pegs, he gave it a though. _The thing does have a lot of storage._ "Well, I doubt I will need an owl for messages since you can always use the ones at Hogwarts. I doubt I'll actually need them anyway, since my family is in America and all."

" **True, the flight there is harsh for most birds. But you still have a choice of a cat or frog."**

Harry gave Hagrid a look. The friendly giant hasn't led him astray yet. "Tell you what. Let's see how out business at Ollivander's before I make up my mind."

* * *

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strange as though he had entered a very strict library. He inspected the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. Plus, the concentrated energies in this room were giving him a massive migraine.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly. _Where the hell did you teleport from?_

He nodded his head and then spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.… Oak, 16 inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

" **It was, sir, yes,"** said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

" **Er — yes, they did, yes** ," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. " **I've still got the pieces, though,** " he added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

" **Oh, no, sir,** " said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now — what is your name child?"

"Harry MacLeod, sir."

"Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I am ambidextrous, but I guess I prefer my right for most things," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. MacLeod. We mostly use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. You are little large for an eleven-year-old." (13)

"I ate my vegetables when I was growing," jokingly said Harry. _A hearty dose of angel and demon essence probably helped, with vigorous activity on the side._

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. MacLeod. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. 9 inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and - feeling foolish - waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. 7 inches. Quite whippy."

Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"Hawthorn wood, 10 inches, with unicorn hair."

As soon as Harry touched the wood, he drew his hand back as if he touched a hot coal. Mr. Ollivander cocked his head with a curious look in his eyes and then grabbed a different box.

"Mahogany, 11 inches, dragon heartstring."

Harry picked it up, but only a few lazy sparks fell from the tip. It was snatched away from him and immediately replaced with a different wand.

Several wands later, Mr. Ollivander pushed yet another wand into Harry's hands.

"Holly wood, 11 inches, phoenix feather core."

Mr. Ollivander seemed to hold his breath as Harry held up the wand, but nothing spectacular happened, only a weird feeling rose within him. "It seems to want to be with you, but something is holding it back… Very interesting – I never had that happen before." The wand maker hesitantly took back the wand he just handed over and replaced it with several more.

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. Always a challenge to find just the right wand for a customer."

Harry – despite the poor man's jubilation – was becoming a _tad_ annoyed. "Sir, I know this may not be an issue with the whole 'wands picking their masters' and all but is it possible you are holding back certain wands because they are… how to put it nicely… on the more extravagant side?"

Mr. Ollivander paused at that notion, carefully looking at the Harry, "While I do prefer to sell all my wands at a manageable 7 galleons, there are some wands I keep in the back that are… experimental in their nature."

Harry gave the old man a feral smile as he put his hands on the counter, "Bring out the most troublesome one of the bunch. If I could ride a Thunderbird, I can take on any wand."

Both Hagrid and Mr. Ollivander gave Harry looks of surprise at that, but the wand maker didn't hesitate to go around back. He came back a few moments later with a box with multiple locks. As he began undoing them, he started to tell his story, "When I was younger, I was rather interested in the story of " _The Tale of the Three Brothers."_ "

"I am familiar with the work," interrupted Harry.

"Good, that saves me some time. The Elder Wand is one of the fabled Deathly Hallows, the first one created, bestowed on Antioch Peverell. Supposedly, it was made by Death himself after the wizard requested the most powerful wand in the history. According to legend, whoever reunited it with the other two Hallows would become the Master of Death. It is said to be the most powerful wand that has ever existed, able to perform tremendous feats of magic that would normally be considered impossible even by the most skilled wizards. While its creation is debated, it is known that the Elder Wand's core is the tail hair of a Thestral, a potent yet tricky substance to master that can only be handled by a witch or wizard who is capable of accepting death, since only by such can it be seen."

Harry could read the joy, the wonder in the man's voice as he described the story – with details he wasn't even aware of. _So that's what the symbol I showed Death represents. Got to check the books I brought to see what the other Deathly Hallows are._

"You really think this wand exists, then, Mr. Ollivander?"

Mr. Ollivander gave the boy a look of awe, "Oh yes, yes, it is perfectly possible to trace the wand's course through history. There are gaps, of course, and long ones, where it vanishes from view, temporarily lost or hidden; but it always resurfaces. It has certain identifying characteristics that those who are learned in wandlore recognize. There is one caveat to it: for it to pass to a new master, the wand master must be beaten by another – it recognizes no other unless done as such. Whether it needs to pass by murder, I do not know. Its history is bloody, but that may be simply due to the fact that it is such a desirable object, and arouses such passions in wizards. Immensely powerful, dangerous in the wrong hands, and an object of incredible fascination to all of us who study the power of wands."

Harry whistled, "Thank god it's just a story then."

Mr. Ollivander shrugged as he finished the last lock, "Not so. It is currently in the position of Albus Dumbledore."

 _Oh, you have got to be kidding me._ "Have you actually seen it?"

"Yes, I had the honor of even holding it when Albus became its owner decades ago. When I finally saw it, I was inspired to create its successor. I traveled far and wide, gathered a myriad of cores and woods, asked for guidance from other wand makers. While I did perfect my craft and made many of the wands you see behind me, I never truly succeed in my endeavors. This wand, however, came very close."

As soon as the wand maker lifted the lid, Harry knew. Harry has never truly needed the use of a magical foci to work his stuff, but he used some from time to time during his 'experiments' to see what would happen. His forgone conclusion was that in his particular case, his magic preferred to be unbound and unfocused.

The wand in front of him was about to prove him wrong. A beautiful, twisting black mistress, with what seemed like one dark and light pieces of wood twisting around solid piece of the same material.

"This wand here broke almost all of my personal crafting rules. The core inside of it is from a tail of an ancient Thestral, same as for the Elder Wand. The similarities end there, though. The Thestral hair is twisted inside the web strings of an Anansi Spider and the heartstring of a draconic descendant of Fafnir himself. All that is forged inside a 16-inch piece of African Black Wood (14). This wand balances on the edges of life and death with what was used to craft it, and in turn demands its owner to be just as chaotic in nature. In all the years I have owned this wand, I have only offered it to two others in the past – both were violently rejected by it. Are you willing to try?"

Not a second after the wand maker said the question, Harry grabbed the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, and a sense of euphoria that followed soon after. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air. A wave of magic emerged from it, cascading through the shop and spreading outside to Diagon Alley. A cacophony of sounds was soon heard from the Magical Menagerie. Hagrid whooped and clapped, and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

Harry tried his best to calm himself down from the rush he felt grabbing the wand. "Sorry," said Harry, "but _what's_ curious?"

"When I received the African Black Wood, I was warned by an African medicine man that the person who would be accepted by that wand would go on to do… I guess 'interesting' is the most appropriate translation."

" **Fits with what I have seen from the boy. I have only known him for half a day, and I already know he is going to do great things!"**

"Choose your words carefully, Hagrid. I once said the same thing about the wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He went on to do many evil things – great things, but still evil. I only hope the same fate doesn't befall you."

 _Already walked down that path. Guess I have nothing to worry about._ "Mr. Ollivander… Is it customary to name a wand?"

"Not that I heard. I mean... only great works of legends are named…"

"How does one know that their work becomes legendary if they don't live to see them become so? Besides, for something as great as this, at least a special case is deserved."

Mr. Ollivander smiled, "I can do that. What would you like to be inscribed upon the box?"

Harry took a long look at the wand, slowly turning it in his hand. He was tempted – seriously tempted – to activate his Sight to take a good long look at it. Some part of him nagged with an appropriate name. But it felt right to him…

"It may not be a name as grand as the Elder Wand, but I dub thee Tiamat, after the primordial goddess of the ocean, the Mesopotamian dragon woman of creation and chaos."

The magic in the air finally calmed, as if it were drawn back into the wand that created it. Hagrid was in awe at what occurred while Mr. Ollivander marveled at the sight. "I shall engrave that on the box. Give me a moment."

After waiting a little bit, Mr. Ollivander came out with a beautiful black box and wand holster for Harry. As Harry put the wand into the box, he asked the question, "How much for everything?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much for the wand, box, and holster? You can expect to just accept these for free just because you think I am special for being able to tame Tiamat."

Mr. Ollivander had a look of shock on his face – probably because that is what he considered doing. "Well… I guess the customary 7 galleons then..."

"You're taking my 100 galleons and I am not taking 'no' for an answer."

Hagrid tried to stand up, but Harry glared him back down. "Please," pleaded Harry to Mr. Ollivander, "this is a work of art and should be treated as such. If you can't accept payment, then consider this a generous donation from a grateful customer."

Mr. Ollivander smiled at that and graciously accepted Harry's money. "Till next time we met, Harry MacLeod."

As Harry and Hagrid exited the store, Hagrid looked upon the smiling youth, " **Feel like getting a pet now?"**

"Yeah… I think I might."

* * *

Harry didn't know what to make of the Magical Menagerie. It looked like any other pet store – if every pet store was cramped, with every inch of wall covered by cages. Harry recognized some of the basic human pets - owls, ravens, cats, rats and the like – and some odd creatures he didn't know what to make of.

" **So Harry, what would you like – toad or cat?"**

"Cat, definitely cat," Harry looked toward the salesman at the counter, "What's the strangest and oddest cat you got?"

The wizard gave Harry an odd look before he shrugged and went to the very back to the store. He returned soon enough with a cage stuffed with something orange. As he took out the 'cat,' Harry got a good look at what he asked for.

'What is that?" inquired Harry.

" **Either very big cat or quite a small tiger."**

Whatever it was, it was definitely strange. It was very big, bandy-legged, ginger-colored and had a squashed head, something that looked like it the beast ran headlong into a brick wall. Its only other recognizable physical traits were its bottlebrush tail and yellow eyes.

"This male specimen here is a half-Kneazle named Crookshanks. Don't even remember how long we had this guy here. No matter what we offer for him, no one is interested. I mean the bugger is intelligent as they come, but his temperament needs some work."

"No, not his temperament," absentmindedly muttered Harry. He could already tell that this cat was special. While he needed to activate his Sight in private to confirm, he could already sense that this cat had some grand role to play in the future. "He just needs someone with a gentle hand but a domineering personality – and constant snacks."

At the mention of food, the beast let out a loud meow. After scratching the cat behind the ears to confirm, Harry felt like he was a better choice than a toad or an owl. "I'll take him."

The sun was starting to set as Harry and Hagrid were finishing their excursion across Diagon Alley. Hagrid carried a small bag of supplies, while Harry was followed by his ever trusty trunk he jokingly dubbed Lancelot and a cage stuffed with a monster of a cat.

"Did you expect the day to go the way it did after you met me?"

Hagrid slowed down as he seemed to think it through, " **No, but with you, I think anything is possible. I am sorry to say that it's time for us to go our separate ways."**

Harry did in fact notice they were at a crossroad – an irony not lost on Harry – as Hagrid made that comment. "You don't have anything to fear. We will meet soon enough at Hogwarts."

Hagrid smiled at that, " **Sure we will. I am actually the one who leads the boats to the castle. Just look for me in the front boat so we can catch up."**

"That will be wonderful. Till next time."

Hagrid nodded and turned, " **Till next time, Harry MacLeod."**

Hagrid only turned around for a second before remembering that he should have told the boy about how to get through platform nine and three-quarters. As he turned back, Harry had already disappeared. Hagrid looked around across the empty streets, but the child wasn't in sight.

" **Remarkable child. Frightening – but interesting none the less,"** chuckled Hagrid.

* * *

"What could have possibly crossed your bloody mind when you decided to buy a cat?" questioned Crowley.

"Technically, he is half cat and half Kneazle."

"I don't give a bloody shite what a Kneazle is! YOU BROUGHT A CAT!" (15)

"Calm down, Crowley," spoke out Gabriel. The angel was currently sitting on the couch, stroking the cat in question, who was purring like a giant gramophone.

"Look, Crowley, it was my money…"

"No, it was my Nazi gold you took, so it was my money."

Harry winced, rubbing his neck, "Well I would have used my birth parents money if I could."

At this, the conversation reached full stop as Gabriel slowly put down the cat on the couch, "How did you do what now?"

"Alright, everyonesit down. It's complicated enough as it is and I have a lot of paperwork to go over regarding my accounts for the last decade or so. It all started when I spotted the half-giant wizard lost in the streets…"

* * *

 **(1) Just to clarify, this isn't some twisted form of good or evil on his shoulders: just different ways of reacting to a situation presented to Harry. For simplicity sake, there is the 'Wizard' persona (which is Harry's default state), 'Businessman' persona (his mentality during the war, which is more serious and manipulative), and his 'Trickster' persona (which is more carefree and in the moment as it** were **, but vengeful if crossed). I'll define it more as the story progresses.**

 **(2) The whole graphology thing isn't really a scientific method to gauge personality, but admittedly, the descriptions I found did match McGonagall so I used it. Don't think I will bring it back again though, but who knows.**

 **(3) While most lineman average somewhere in the six feet and weight above 250, the biggest RECOGNIZED football player is John Krahn who is 7 feet and 440 pounds (but still in high school). Officially, Pottermore list's Hagrid's height at 11 feet 6 inches… For sanity's sake though, I'll stick to the movie version and say that he is at most 8 feet and MAYBE a few inches. I don't want him reaching Robert Pershing Wadlow proportions, who was 8 feet 11 inches before he died at 22.**

 **(4) This is true – most villains are usually masquerading as someone much meeker and less aggressive.**

 **(5)** First **indication of** difference **in creatures between universes which I address later in the story.**

 **(6) In case I wasn't clear, it is Nazi gold that Harry is exchanging. Funny enough, Hitler was Führer of Germany for a little over ten years – I was going to make a Crossroad's Deal about it but Episode 5 of Season 12, "The One You've Been Waiting For", kind off cock-blocked that idea.**

 **(7)** First **indication that something was physically wrong with Harry (addressed in later chapters when he is examined by Madam Pomfrey).**

 **(8) Okay, to make the show and book timeline work, I had to shift everything forward by about 19 years (make it 20 years to remember it easier). However, this will only apply to certain people. For example, Voldemort's birthdate hasn't changed since him living through the Blitz is what made him the man he is. The same applies to Gerald and Albus and anyone I otherwise specify.**

 **(9) This is more of a pet-peeve on my part, but no one actually addresses how they determined that Harry was the one who actually killed Voldemort. Most Fanfictions address this by making it something Lily did or some secret lineage of Harry's, but in the** series **it is never questioned.**

 **(10) I may or may not play with this idea in the future. Again, leaving myself a lot of possible routes in the future depending on how the story goes.**

 **(11) Albus public persona is very convincing – even Griphook fell for it. That, and since Albus couldn't dip his toe in the Potter gold (like in many fanfictions) due to the idiocy of the Ministry, it's not like he has bad blood with the Goblins or transactions to tie to him.**

 **(12) Never addressed in the book, but figured I should. I mean, Hermione had to read ahead somehow for self-study.**

 **(13) On AVERAGE, an** 11 year old **boy would be around 4 feet 5 inches (this varies region by region). I am not going to go into specifics, but let's say Harry is 5 feet at the moment. In the UK, where the average height is 5 feet 9 inches, that's impressive for an** eleven year old **.**

 **(14) I got some smack about making such an uber-wand for Harry but I felt it was appropriate since Harry was part angel and demon. For clarification, Anansi is for the trickster spider of folklore, Fafnir was a dwarf in Norse mythology who due to the curse of Andvari's ring and gold, became a dragon (and who was the direct inspiration for Smaug in 'The Hobbit' series). African Black Wood was just the most expensive wood I could find that was related to one of the cores of the wand.**

 **(15) Just to appease my fans, I offer you a reprieve: if Harry got Crookshanks, who do you think will get Hedwig?**


	16. Two Friends and a Bunch of Enemies

**Chapter 16: Two Friends and a Bunch of Enemies**

* * *

 _September 1, 2011_

 _Damn Brits. Who starts a school year on a Thursday of all days?_

Harry didn't tend to be this cranky. Unfortunately, one of his rare required bouts of sleep happened to have fallen during last night. With the time difference, Harry _could_ have stayed in London beforehand to avoid being late.

That wasn't in his nature. Well, technically, it could be at times.

While he did plan to wake up before 5:00 in the morning to have more than enough time to make the 11:00 train in London, he still managed to oversleep.

He arrived at the station King's Cross at half past ten. Harry placed his trunk and cat cage on the cart to wheel it into the station. He noticed instantly that there was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

 _I am too tired and uncaffeinated to deal with this right now._

Harry took a look around, making sure no one would see him. As he activated his Sight, he instantly noticed that the family that just passed him by were standing in front of the pedestals.

A family of red heads with an owl on their trunk.

Pedestals that happened to be one of the most heavily warded and fueled portals Harry has ever seen. He could see a separate train through the portal – in a forested area of all places.

 _Seriously, what is it with this culture? It's like they got stuck in the magical equivalent of Steampunk Britain and improved what they had with time. I wouldn't be surprised if they made radios that worked off some magic waves._

Harry turned off his Sight and started to listen to the family talking. The family seemed to consist of a plump woman talking to four boys of various sizes and a small girl at her side.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so because a second later, he was gone.

Harry couldn't help but smile. _My, my… Fellow pranksters or just merry men that I see. Must inquire for assistance in future plans to screw with those who have it coming…_

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere. The mother and the youngest daughter followed afterward.

There was nothing else to it.

 _All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten? Can't be that simple… Unless you need to have magic to actually activate the portal. (1)  
_

Harry had to activate his Sight again to make sure he understood what he saw. He could still see the family of red heads that went through on the other, smiling and talking with each other as the old-style train let out a billow of steam.

Harry noted that there dozens of kids and families on that station, greeting each other and saying their goodbyes.

Harry started weighing his options.

 _Only got one chance to make an impression on these stuck up Brits. But do I go in calm and collected like a Muggle-born kid who doesn't know what's going on? Or do I go in crazy and excited so that anything I do in the future won't be questioned? Both options will limit my choices of interactions. But the quiet ones are more likely to be ignored but faster to be critiqued if they get involved in anything strange. But a kooky kid isn't going to be given a second look doing something out of the norm. And with my nature, there are bound to be some bad days…_

Harry gave himself a judging look. _And I am definitely out of the norm by wizard standards. Come on Harry, be honest! You are going to slip up, Dumbledore or one of the staff will notice, there will be inquiries… I can get around it with the fact I don't look like I am supposed to, and Griphook assured me he wouldn't tell them my identity even when pressed…_

Harry gave Crookshank's a questioning look, "What do you suggest, Crooks? Go big or go home?"

The cat just tilted his head and meowed. While Harry did get better at reading the cats expressions over the month, he was still confused at times. _I should really look up that_ _Human/animal mind meld shaman trick I read about._

Harry gave the portal one last look. _Ah, screw it – LET'S GET LOUD! (2)  
_

* * *

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

" _Mom_ — geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes with a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter _P_ on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"

"Oh, are you a _prefect,_ Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once -"

"Or twice -"

"A minute -"

"All summer -"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek, and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now Percy, remember to take good care of your younger brothers. Ron, make sure you don't get in trouble like Fred and George do," gently spoke Molly Weasley to her kids.

"Mom, please! Me and Fred…"

"…simply bring fun and merriment…"

"…to the dull proceedings that occur at Hogwarts."

"Now, you two - this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or -"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

Ginny came up behind her mother, "But didn't Professor McGonagall send Mom a letter warning you two to be careful this year?"

The twins got on both sides of their sister, smiling and on one knee to be eye-level with her. "Ginny, Ginny…"

"She is only reminding us not to hurt anyone with our pranks."

"We always do things to bring smiles to people's faces…"

"… not to merely injure someone."

Both brothers got up and dusted themselves off, "Besides, what are the odds…"

"…that we will have a new challenger…"

"…who will endanger our reign as the…"

"…Tricksters of Hogwarts?"

At that particular moment, however, the universe answered.

If it weren't for the fact that the Weasley Clan happened to be looking in the direction of the portal, they would have doubted the retelling of the story.

All they saw was a cart wheeling through the portal, with a rainbow dressed kid standing on the front end, screaming 'I AM KING OF THE WORLD' with his arms spread out (3), with some kind of orange monster yowling from the back of the cart.

They started in shock as the cart sped toward a crack and got stuck, tilting forward, flinging the kid, his one trunk, and his caged animal into the air.

They witnessed as this supposed child flipped in the air, landed straight on his feet without any pain, and managed to _somehow_ catch both his trunk and his pet with his hands.

Then, without even checking himself for injuries or looking at the gawking kids and adults around him, he lifted the cage to his face – which Molly now realized contained a cat - and told it, "Now that, Crooks, is how you make an entrance!"

As the kid briskly walked to the train, giving his ticket to the confused guard gawking at him.

The twins turned to each other whispering.

"Fred."

"Yes, George?"

"I think we have competition this year."

"I believe we do indeed, George."

Ginny, on the other hand, looked at her mother for guidance, "Mom, was that new student wearing strange clothing?"

"Yes Ginny, I believe he was. The trends Muggle fashion goes to make…"

Percy and Ron just gave each other a look that said, _Hope he isn't in my House._

* * *

The first few compartments were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry carried his luggage in pursuit of an empty compartment. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train.

He let Crookshank out of his cage first before he put down his trunk on the floor. While the cat settled in the sunny section seat for a deserved nap after the fiasco that just occurred, Harry started to think of what to do next.

He began going through his mental checklist. _Okay, I messaged Griphook about all the plans Crowley currently has ending in the future for businesses. I inquired about what actually transpired that put my Godfather in this 'Azkaban' place – no word regarding that yet. Have to ask about what actually happened on the day Voldemort died from someone who was actually there – i.e. Dumbledore. Let's leave that on the back-burner for now. Before that, I have to find a way to understand the inner workings and actual power behind the throne. Could always get rid of this Fudge character to cause chaos when the need arises - let's leave that as a possible means of breaking into the Ministry due to the confusion it causes. I guess all that is currently on the agenda is to enjoy my time as a kid – a magical kid, but a kid nonetheless._

Harry started looking around his compartment. He didn't know how long the ride to Hogwarts was going to take, but if he assumed the same logic as stories do, it was going to take a few hours.

As Harry reached into his trunk to get out Crookshank's treats, he also reached for something he got rather acquainted with during his 'incarceration.' "Well, I guess I got to keep my hands busy."

* * *

Hermione Granger was doing her best to adjust to the new situation presented to her. A few months ago, she was just a simple yet bright girl of eleven years. Now, on this train, going to a school for wizards and witches… She had to check herself every day for the last month to make sure she wasn't dreaming. No - ever since she got her letter and visit from Professor McGonagall.

She couldn't help smiling; she was on her way to the premier magic school of Britain.

Hogwarts – just the name alone spoke volumes.

Her trip to Diagon Alley was enjoyable and illuminating - in more than one regard.

She was doing her best to find a seat on the train, somewhere away from anyone wizard-raised, just so that she wouldn't have to hear the _M-word_ again.

As she was about to give up on her search and go back to the front of the train to see if any spots opened up, she heard a melody at the very end of the train. It sounded like a guitar rift from the records her parents listened to on vinyl. Something American, she believed.

As she started to get closer to the compartment, she finally began to hear a voice singing to the guitar tune. (4)

 _I was toting my pack along the long dusty Winnemucca road  
When along came a semi with a high canvas covered load  
If your goin' to Winnemucca, Mack with me you can ride  
And so I climbed into the cab and then I settled down inside  
He asked me if I'd seen a road with so much dust and sand  
And I said, "Listen! I've traveled every road in this here land!"_

 _I've been everywhere, man  
I've been everywhere, man  
Crossed the deserts bare, man  
I've breathed the mountain air, man  
Travel, I've had my share, man  
I've been everywhere_

 _I've been to:  
Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota,  
Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota,  
Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma,  
Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma,  
Bangor, Baltimore, Salvador, Amarillo,  
Tocapillo, Baranquilla, and Perdilla, I'm a killer._

 _I've been everywhere, man  
I've been…_

Hermione would have continued listening to the song, but she made the unfortunate choice of finally opening the compartment door to see just how someone managed to make a musical device work on such a magic-rich form of transportation.

She didn't actually expect to see someone playing a real guitar while laying full body on the seat, as a cat watched from the opposite side of the compartment.

The moment she entered, the boy stopped playing, and the cat hissed at her interruption – apparently, he was enjoying his master's playing.

That's when Hermione finally paid attention to the boy holding the guitar.

She wasn't usually flustered by the clothing choices people made, but since the kid still hasn't put on his wizard robe, she noticed his Muggle clothing stood out just too much. She couldn't understand why someone would willingly wear black combat boots, green jeans, a red hoodie, and black gloves all in one ensemble. She noted that he wasn't showing any skin, and she started to look up to his face…

She paused.

She never actually focused on appearances, partially due to her large front teeth and unkempt hair. Maybe it was the constant teasing from her fellow schoolmates about her looks and being called a bookworm. In the end, she ignored everything regarding beauty and aesthetics, no matter how much her mother tried to convince her otherwise.

Well… maybe not everything.

She was versed enough in matters of attractiveness to know that the boy who was smiling at her was… 'rogue-ish' was probably the best word for it. His infectious smile, combed over black hair, ear piercings – of all things – and dark green eyes. Even the scar over his right eye added to the persona.

Only one word came to mind to describe him – 'trickster.'

"Well now," said the boy in a clearly American accent, "what do we have here?"

* * *

The only reason Harry picked up the guitar during his 'incarceration' was just to get his fingers working again. Unfortunately, all the crossroad deals Crowley made with famous musicians - like Robert Johnson - must have rubbed off on him during the essence exchange because he was _good_. He wasn't rockstar or Mozart good, but as Gabriel joked, he made it up with his looks and voice.

Personally, Harry never got the whole thing about people liking someone just because they can play a musical instrument.

He only took it up because he needed something light and complex to train his fingers back to normal.

He only took it up because some magics use musical instruments.

He only took it up because it was a form of stress and emotional relief.

 _Ah, screw it. Can't lie to myself - I love this little piece of junk! How did I live without this thing?_

When Harry asked Gabriel for a guitar, the cheerful angel instantly had one on call. As best he could recall, Gabriel was summoned to Portugal a few decades back by the prayer of a devout parent. The dad was willing to offer anything to save his daughter from her sickness, so he prayed to Gabriel. Ironically, though, since the man worked in communications and was - _of all things_ \- a stamp collector, he covered a lot of Gabriel's patronages. Plus, the angel was in the area at the time, so he managed to be close enough to hear him. While the father didn't believe that a white man could be the Angel of the Lord, he changed his tune pretty quickly when he saw his daughter healed. All that Gabriel asked in return for the service was the man's guitar, which he gave willingly. From what he figured, the act of healing the man's daughter and being gifted to Gabriel blessed the damn thing. Harry couldn't understand what exactly the blessing was, but he wasn't going to go and question his uncle's story.

Besides, he never needed to tune the damn thing, wax it, and it played beautifully. He called her Cerridwen, after the Celtic goddess of magic, nature, poetry, music, art, science, and astrology. The fact she was also the keeper of the cauldron was just a coincidence – he named her before he got the letter.

Anyway, while Johnny Cash helped him clear his mind for the short duration of the trip so far, he didn't expect it to bother anyone. So when a girl opened the door to his compartment, he stopped playing in surprise.

When she paused in kind – most likely due to his appearance – so he took his time inspecting her.

 _She is beautiful_.

That sounds creepy coming from an eleven-year-old kid, but that's not why he had that thought.

What he referred as beautiful was her essence.

It was an incredible shade of sapphire, with some hints of pink, yellow, and green appearing on and off. After that, he got a look at her actual appearance.

 _Not a lot to look at, but she is young – she will probably grow into it._

She had lots of bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and rather large two front teeth. Based on how she put on her wizard robe and how unkept her hair was, she was someone who never gave much attention to her appearance.

 _If you even out her teeth and straighten out her hair a little, she could look as good as her essence. Oh well, it's up to her – free-will and all. Better not keep her waiting… Wait, is she looking at my face? Better stop that train of thought right now; I didn't come to Hogwarts to have someone get a crush on me on the first day. Have to put out that fire as soon as possible…_

"Well now," said Harry to the girl at the door, "what do we have here?"

Harry put down his guitar as he sat up to greet the girl. "Harry MacLeod, pleased to meet you."

"Oh," flustered the girl, "My name is Hermione Granger. Are you an American?"

"Yes, I am. Is that so odd?"

"Well, no. Well, a little I guess. Do I mind if sit next to…"

"His name is Crookshank. Don't worry, he won't bite."

As Hermione petted the cat – who apparently seemed to like her – as she was sitting down opposite of Harry, he started putting his guitar back in the trunk.

"Is that one of those wizard trunks that are bigger on the inside? I wanted to get one but…"

"Yeah, these things aren't cheap but trust me, it's worth it."

"Right. Nobody in my family's magic at all, so it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. During my research, it read that the school only accepts people born in Great Britain and some parts of Europe. How did you…"

"Ah, I see your confusion. Well, technically, I was born in Britain, but I was raised in America. Does that answer your question?"

"That makes sense," nodded the girl. Crookshank was basically on her lap at this point, "Did you know about magic before getting the letter?"

"My adopted family was aware of magic – just not the particular kind used by wizards and the like."

"There are other kinds of magic?" asked Hermione as she put down the cat.

"Certainly. While the magic used by wizards seems to be unique based on what I read so far, every culture has their little brand of magic."

Hermione gave Harry an incredulous look like she heard something that contradicts what she has been taught.

 _How to explain this properly?_ Harry noted the guitar at his side. _Maybe…_

"Magic is the same as music on a very fundamental level."

Hermione gave him the classic head tilt of confusion as she put down Crookshank. "How?"

"Playing music requires three things: the body, the tool, and the knowledge. All three come together to make a song. The body is us, the energy that is the fuel. The tool is a foci; for this example, it's my guitar. Knowledge is exactly just that: the understanding and practice that lets you do what you do. The song produced is the same as the magical end product."

Harry lifted the guitar up to his leg, balancing it out like he was about to play. "You know the guitar notes right? Consider them the building blocks of magic for this example."

Harry started to play a blues riff, with Hermione watching with full focus. "Now, music styles represent the multitudes of cultural out there. Culture affects view said opinions of the person: a person can have a favorite music style, a style they hate, and styles we are nonchalant about. As we age and are exposed to other cultures, our opinions change over time, which is reflected in our preferences."

He changed his riff to a rock tune, "Now, consider music styles the same thing as magic styles and methods: everyone has a magic they are naturally good at, a magic they can't use, and everything in between. The same can be said as we age and experience new things – magic changes as well. Small adjustments and the like."

Harry changed next to a Latin tune, "Now comes the foci. In simple terms, everything is a factor: age, material, type of guitar, type of instruments, etc. Do I need to go further?"

Hermione shook his head.

Harry nodded and continued, "Now knowledge is the tricky part."

"Isn't style part of knowledge?"

"A little – let me finish first. To play an instrument, we need to learn the hand movements, train your fingers to react appropriately, how to adjust pitch, which notes there are, the transitions, etc."

Harry went full stop on the guitar, "And that is when the great irony of mastering magic is revealed."

"Irony? Isn't mastering magic based on learning spells, perfecting hand motions, studying from books and tomes…"

"Never trust everything written in books as gospel."

The look of shock that appeared on Hermione made it seem like Harry crossed some kind of line.

 _Better back pedal for damage control._

"It's the Technician vs. Performer Trope; little simplistic, but fits the bill."

"What is…"

"Let me explain. It basically boils down to a contrast between a highly-skilled, perfectionist artist and a less-skilled, but more inventive and original virtuoso. For music – or magic, however, you choose to look at it – it's slightly different."

Harry started playing a blues tune again. "What you are describing is the technician form of magic. Memorizing magic, spells, theory and the like is good and all, but unless you look at it the right way, you really don't see the connections. It's the musical equivalent of learning how to play a certain number of songs or how to just play on the guitar. I mean sure, if you master playing the guitar or refine a song to perfection, that's good and all, but is that all you have?"

Hermione's face started to show that she was getting more and more confused.

 _Reel her back in Harry…_

"Now the performer form of magic is the opposite. You learn a little here and there, progress through practice and knowledge organically rather than focusing on one style or form in particular. You learn a song or two here, master an instrument there, mix the techniques of one style into another. There is a comic book character who fits the trope nicely named Constantine: rather than settle down and focus on one aspect of wizardry, he traveled the world and 'pilfered' whatever little tidbits of lore and magic he thought he would need in a bind and worked from there. You get my point?"

"I guess…"

"Okay, if music doesn't help with this metaphor, simplify it as a fight between a man with a rapier and a mix martial arts fighter. The one with the rapier has honed and perfected the technique, but the fighter is using a hotchpotch of techniques and styles to make a greater whole."

Realization finally dawned on Hermione, "Oh! I see what you mean. One is perfect with one form of magic, but another gathers magic's that they find useful or that can be applied to multiple things."

"Exactly. What you want is the middle ground – the music equivalent of playing a song on any instrument in any style."

Hermione started smiling, "Or the magical equivalent of performing a spell with various foci and in various forms."

 _Wow, she caught on fast._

"Exactly. I can go on to specifics, but I think you understand how this conversation is going to go right?"

"I guess, but what about the body… the energy used?"

"That topic is rather advanced. Since you don't have a magical foundation to work with, how about we leave it for another day?"

Hermione nodded, "You sound rather… well read about the topic."

 _You have no idea._

"When I came to Diagon Alley first time back in July, I basically brought out most of the bookstores there. I had nothing to do for the month, so I read some of them to understand how wizards use magic. My family had a vast library, so they taught me a few things here and there. Everything else I learned and gathered by myself."

"So it was you!" pointed the girl, "There was chaos in the bookstores when I went there in August. I didn't ask, but they were restocking like crazy."

"I only bought one of each book!"

Both kids started laughing at that.

Hermione started the conversation again. "I am sorry for my earlier reaction."

"How so?"

"I thought… umm… that you looked like Harry Potter."

"Really…'The-Boy-Who-Lived'?"

 _What the hell did she see to jump to that conclusion? Is she just trying to cover up the fact she liked what she saw?_

"You know about him?"

"Not really. You read about him?"

"He was in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on earlier came in. He looked worried.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he sighed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

He left, but before the door closed, a great clattering outside was heard in the corridor, and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leaped to his feet, but Hermione was repulsed.

Harry went out into the corridor. He brought a little of everything - Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he took it all and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. "That and I inherited a sweet tooth from one of my caretakers. You sure you don't want one?"

"Sorry, I am a daughter of two dentists. I hard wired to avoid sugary snacks with a vengeance."

It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Hermione, who was back to petting Crookshanks, eating his way through all pastries, cakes, and candies. They went on talking about Harry Potter and how he killed Voldemort and mysteriously disappeared a few years back after his cruel Muggle guardians were murdered in a house fire. The books said that he was still alive somewhere in the world, but with his scar, she was surprised no one noticed him yet.

"Hermione, you really shouldn't trust everything written in books."

"But books are researched and written by professionals."

Harry gave Hermione the facial equivalent of 'Are you serious?'

"Alright, let's ignore the petty and bought-out authors out there who I could reference to destroy your argument. Let's instead look at this logically. Consider books the same thing as history – they are written by the victors and each author is biased in some way or another."

Hermione to object but Harry pushed forward, "Consider the story of Harry Potter killing Voldemort: there was no one there when it happened besides him, but he was the baby. So how is there a detailed account of everything that happened that day in that house? I mean, even if we accept that maybe some magic was used to recreate the events that occurred, I seriously doubt that it was a perfect rendition of what actually transpired."

The face that appeared on Hermione's face was perplexing for Harry.

 _What is with her? It's not like I challenged a world view or something? I mean, granted, I stopped being eleven years old mentally a long time ago, isn't this something children should understand about books?_

"What are these?" Harry asked Hermione, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?"

"No," said Hermione. "But see what the card is. I'm not really into it, but others seem to enjoy it."

"What?"

"Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect famous witches and wizards."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry. _Now I know who to watch out for._

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Hermione.

Harry turned over his card and read:

 _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

 _Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"Where did he go?"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Hermione. "He'll be back. It's not like real world images, but it's neat, isn't it?"

Harry went back to eating the frogs and looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the Druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Hermione warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor — you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe."

Harry offered her one since they didn't look as sweet as other treats, and finally she relented.

Hermione picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. "Oh - sprouts. Are there any more?"

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end of a funny gray one Hermione wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

His mistake was a laugh for the Hermione.

"Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_ \- someone tried to rob a high-security vault."

Harry stared. "Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. It must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. The wizards always get scared when something like this happens in case Voldemort is behind it."

Harry turned this news over in his mind. _How come Griphook never mentioned this? Better remember to look it up later._

Before Harry could inquire further, three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with even less interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

Then the blond targeted Hermione.

"Ah, I thought I smelled a Mudblood on the train. How convenient that you choose to go to the back of the train so that the rest of us wouldn't be bothered by you."

While Hermione flinched at the mention of the M-word, Harry just looked in shock.

 _Oh no. He did not just call her the Wizarding World equivalent of the n-word._

The boy noted Harry glaring at him, "And with her, we have the most illusive student of the first year batch."

Harry looked confused, "Illusive? What did I do to deserve such an honor?"

The boy – who Harry quickly categorized under 'soon to die under mysterious but plausible circumstances' – gave a look only learned through the experience of being taught they were above others simply for existing.

"My father is Lucius Malfoy, and as the head of the House of Malfoy, he has money and connections. When rumors from Hogwarts got to the Ministry regarding an American being accepted to the school, my father tried to look into it. Do you know how unnerving it was for him to be able to locate nothing about you and yet be in awe of realizing that I stood next to him while being fitted for a robe?"

The boy walked further into the compartment, completely ignoring Hermione while his two goons still stayed outside. "My father has been around long enough to know that the only reason he hasn't found anything about you is either because you don't exist or someone made it so that you don't exist. And the only people who do that are either criminals, people in hiding… or someone from a very powerful family."

 _Wow. He went in an entirely opposite direction – although technically, I am part of a Noble and Ancient House…_

The boy smiled, reaching his hand out for a shake, "My name is Draco Malfoy, and I would be honored to introduce a fellow pure-blood to the Wizarding World of Great Britain."

"I told you already – I don't know if I am pure-blood, half-blood, or a Muggle-born wizard."

Harry noticed he said that a little too loudly. It wasn't intentional, but based on the silence outside their room, Draco's attempt to befriend him must have gotten the other students attention.

Draco chuckled, "You can keep saying that, but it doesn't change the fact that on paper, you don't exist. There is no mention of a 'Harry MacLeod' anywhere in the New World, not is there a bank at Gringotts under the name of 'MacLeod.' And don't tell me your account is in the States – Gringotts is there as well."

 _Wow, just how inbred and delusional are you? Granted, Griphook must have made the account after Lucius looked into it, but still. You really think that Gringotts is the only bank in the United States? I mean, probably, based on how backward this culture is. But even then, if you work under that assumption, couldn't someone trying to hide just make an account under a different name? If it weren't for the fact that I already had an account under 'Potter,' I would have just done that instead._

Harry realized he was thinking for a little too long at Draco's response, making the boy smile in smugness.

"I thought so. No response from you means that I was right."

 _Okay, seriously, who has been giving you such dated strategies to read a person? Ever heard of a poker face or a tell?_

Harry slowly rose up to a proper sitting position, his voice taking on an edge, "Alright Draco. Let's play along with this grand delusion of yours that makes you think that I am some hidden American pure-blood. Overlooking that fact, what do you want from me? As you can see, I was having a wonderful discussion with my friend Hermione Granger before I was rudely interrupted by you."

Draco gave a quick look to Hermione before poking back to Harry, "You will soon find that some families are better than others, MacLeod. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, MacLeod," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer, your life in Hogwarts will be very difficult. You hang around with riffraff like the Granger and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you. As a fellow pure-blood, their nature will start diluting you and your powers. I don't know what your parents could have possibly taught you to make you so clueless about how the world actually works…"

Draco never finished his sentence.

* * *

Hermione was still in shock of being called a Mublood. Ever since her trip to Diagon Alley, all those adults kept giving her such glares of hate.

Now here she was, being told that Harry was one of them.

"I told you already – I don't know if I am pure-blood, half-blood, or a Muggle-born wizard."

Hermione looked in shock. She pondered at this, _He did say he was an orphan… But he could have been raised by pure-bloods. No… I've seen only a small sample of them, but I doubt they would take someone else's child and raised them as their own without some sort of plan in mind…_

Hermione noticed that people started to look down the corridor at their compartment at all the commotion. She listened as Draco chuckled, "You can keep saying that, but it doesn't change the fact that on paper, you don't exist. There is no mention of a 'Harry MacLeod' anywhere in the New World, not is there a bank at Gringotts under the name of 'MacLeod.' And don't tell me your account is in the States – Gringotts there as well."

Harry's face took on an odd mix of emotions that Hermione recognized from her days at elementary school. It was the looks parents took when they failed to understand the logic used by kids to explain themselves. Not because it was difficult for them, but rather because they couldn't follow the leaps of logic kids made to get to their answer.

"I thought so. No response from you means that I was right."

If Draco were looking at Hermione at the moment, he wouldn't have seen her eyes bulge in shock at that statement.

 _Well, this just proves it – he has absolutely no understanding of logic. There are a plethora of reasons why he wouldn't exist. The most logical one is that 'Harry MacLeod' isn't even his real name. That, and he is an orphan – just because another family took him in doesn't mean that he still doesn't have access to his parent's accounts. I mean, granted, he said he doesn't know his birth parents but still…_

Hermione never finished the thought because she noted Harry's appearance. To Draco and his stooges, what Harry did was just sit up. But Hermione had spent the last few hours talking with Harry, and she already noted that his demeanor was completely off.

From what she gathered, Harry always had a relaxed yet guarded behavior. That was normal since he met her for the first time only a few hours ago.

Now, his posture was predatory.

As a child, Hermione shouldn't really understand such a concept. But when her parents took her to a safari and she saw a cheetah hunt and eat a gazelle… Let's just say the image stays with you. But that was the best way to describe what Harry was doing. Shoulders tensed, feet relaxed and ready to lunge, hands crossed against his chest yet not locked in.

"Alright Draco. Let's play along with this grand delusion of yours that makes you think that I am some hidden American pure-blood. Overlooking that fact, what do you want from me? As you can see, I was having a wonderful discussion with my friend Hermione Granger before I was rudely interrupted by you."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at that, _He thinks of me as a friend?_

Draco gave a quick look to Hermione before looking back to Harry, "You will soon find that some families are better than others, MacLeod. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, MacLeod," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer, your life in Hogwarts will be very difficult. You hang around with riffraff like the Granger and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you. As a fellow pure-blood, their nature will start diluting you and your powers. I don't know what your parents could have possibly taught you to make you so clueless about how the world actually works…"

Hermione didn't see it happen, but she saw the phrase that triggered it – Harry's family being insulted. He didn't bother paying Draco any attention, and she saw his disdain for the M-word, but it was mention of his family that set him off.

All that Hermione saw was the back of Draco's head as he hit the wall behind her while being LIFTED one-handed by Harry. As Draco's goons tried to stop him, Harry raised up his other hand and did… something to them. All that Hermione saw before they disappeared from her sight was them being thrown back by some force at the wall outside the compartment.

Hermione saw the panicked look on Draco's face, the fear of suddenly realizing that he has now become the prey. She turned to look at Harry –she noticed he was much taller than she thought – who had a face of pure controlled rage on him.

She did nothing but listen to Harry shout at Draco.

"What did you say about my family?"

Draco tried to croak out at the answer, but he couldn't.

"I thought so," replied Harry at a lower volume. By this point, a crowd had formed outside the cabinet. To Hermione's realization, somewhere trying to pull the goons off the wall with no success while others looked inside the compartment in shock.

"Now whatever theory or plan you had in that little head regarding me is really none of my concern. No – better yet, it's none of my interest. You are so far beneath my notice that I would have ignored and rejected whatever offer you were going to give me. But you made three mistakes since entering this compartment," Harry started ticking off the fingers on his free hand as he counted, "First, you assumed that just because you belong to a powerful family meant that everyone is beneath you. Little history lesson – most aristocrats died by the hands of the help because they always ignored them. Judge a room better next time before you assume that you are the alpha male. Secondly, you assumed "money & blood" equated to "power & authority." Just because you have a _noble_ lineage, it doesn't mean squat in regards to your wizarding potential or capabilities or even your success in the real world. I mean seriously, I looked up the families trees for the likes of you, Crabbe and Goyle there. You are all so inbred and intertwined that I am surprised that Britain still has a wizarding population. You realize that without a constant influx of Muggle-born wizards, your pure-blood families will die off in about three to four generations? (5) Seriously, with your backward ass polygamy law – yes Hermione, the Ministry allows polygamy in rare cases, look it up – I am shocked you lot aren't mating like jackrabbits to bring your population up to par. I mean, as a wizard equivalent of a _prince_ , your parents would understand the notion of a 'hoe and a spare,' which is having a backup successor to the line if anything happened to you. BUT NO! You and your crazy supremacist's lot only have one kid per couple. What, did you all expect to share wives in the future and have a bunch of half-brothers and half-sisters running around in a generation or two?"

Hermione – and most likely the rest of the student populace listening and watching outside – were all gaping opened mouth. Hermione was already aware of the notion of population diversity and the biology behind inheritance since she was taught in a Muggle school. But for the children raised exclusively in the Wizard World, what Harry was spouting was the equivalent of… of…

 _There is no equivalent. Harry is basically calling out and challenging the very foundation of Britain's House powers. He is suggesting that they are a dying breed and that Half-bloods and Muggles are the future. I can understand where he is coming from, but does he honestly think that all pure-bloods are like that?_

"And third," said Harry as he leaned closer to a shaking Draco, "you made the mistake of insulting my family. I planned to leave you alone once we got to Hogwarts but now… now you made yourself a target."

Harry threw Draco outside the cabinet into his goons and walked out for everyone to see, "Hear my words, Draco Malfoy. You have made an enemy today who you can't possibly comprehend. You made the error of jumping into the deep end of an ocean that we adults call 'the real world.' Take heed and get your affairs in order, because by the time I am done with you, 'Draco Malfoy' will either be dead or in another school. I'll start off nice and slow, to prolong your suffering. The knowledge that an attack can come at any time from anywhere will be just one form of punishment you will undergo. So take woe, Draco, for now, you are at war with a force you know nothing about."

Harry started to walk back into his compartment but turned back for one last thing, "And before you get the idea to run back to daddy and cry, remember this – he couldn't find any evidence of my existence. Just because you tell him that you and others heard me threaten to kill you, doesn't mean that he will have the authority to get rid of me from Hogwarts. Besides, if anything, you – nor your friends," Harry gave a quick glance to the students watching, "will tell anyone about this. Why? Because that will make your father lose 'face.' They are either going to be paid off, Obliviated, or just keep their mouth shut less they want Big Bad Lucius to come to their homes in the middle of the night and make them disappear. You Draco, are fighting a private war that you either win or lose. Remember that when you start making plans to try to ruin or kill me, because guess what? 'Avada Kedavra' isn't the only way to kill someone and leave no evidence behind."

Right as Harry was about to close the door, he smiled at everyone still watching, "I hope that my little talk with the Scion of the House of Malfoy didn't disturb the rest of you – I will be quiet from now on."

* * *

As Harry closed the compartment doors, Draco's goons fell off the wall. They quickly got up and carried Draco away to safety.

Fred and George – along with Ron – watched from outside their own compartment how a quivering and shaking Draco was basically scared into running away, having gained nothing from his confrontation with Harry except a bruised neck, a damaged ego, and a newly acquired sense of fear.

As Fred and George went back into their compartment, their brother Percy came down from the Prefect Cabinet, "What happened? We heard a commotion all the way from the front of the train, but it seems to be over. Can someone tell me what just occurred?"

Fred and George were still registering what they saw, but Ron spoke up, "Some pure-blood kid in the back had a spat with Draco, basically calling him stupid and childish. That's just pure-bloods for you, American or British, always trying to prove they are better than the rest of us."

Fred and George just looked in shock at their younger brother's ignorance of what truly transpired as Percy went on to investigate further.

The twins silently performed a spell they found a while back from something that once belonged to the greatest tricksters of Hogwarts – the Marauders. Maybe it's because they were twins and basically the same person, but the spell that allowed mental communication was more effective on them than the description provided. Plus, while they never used it to cheat during exams – seeing as how they weren't sure if it could be registered by anti-cheating spells nor brave enough nor face the wrath of McGonagall – they still used in almost every other situation

" _If what he said is true, wouldn't that mean that since Mom and Pop are both pure-bloods, the Weasley's are the largest family out there to choose from, especially since Pop was technically a Black?" (6)  
_

Fred considered it, _"Most other families have only a daughter to inherit the House, and two children families are unheard of. Three or more – no one but us. If what that kid said is true, then they will have no choice but to marry us or other half-bloods at the least."_

" _How have they never considered this?"_

" _Because they are too stubborn to admit it and we are Weasley's. We are the poorest and weakest pure-bloods out there. It doesn't matter that we work to prove ourselves better than the rest of those bigots and Death Eaters out there. Just look at us: one of us works as a curse breaker in Gringotts, another breeds and rides dragons, another is a genius and a prefect, we are the greatest tricksters to ever live…"_

" _Too bad they don't see it as genius."_

" _Please. The teachers may try to catch us, but they know the work and effort that goes into developing our stuff. Dumbledore probably already knows that we are holding back in our classes. McGonagall and Flitwick definitely suspect that we know more charms and spells then we let on. Snape is too arrogant to note the difficulty of the potion work required in our efforts."_

" _What about Ron and Ginny?"_

" _Ginny is going to be a Quidditch player like no other with all the late night training she has under her belt."_

" _Yeah. Like she actually thinks we don't notice her sneak off at night to practice in secret."_

" _But Ron…"_

" _Give him time Fred. He will find a place for himself in Hogwarts. We may pick at Percy for his decision to one day work in the Ministry, but at least he is honest and hard-working like Dad. They need more people like him there."_

Fred nodded. _"So, what do we do now?"_

" _I say we stick to the original plan: perfect and expand our pool of products so that one day we can open up a shop in Diagon Alley. But now… I say we add a few more objectives."_

Fred smiled while Ron went back to ignorantly eating his candy in frustration, venting something about 'pure-bloods' and the like. _"What do you have in mind?"_

" _I say we add this Harry kid to our group."_

" _You want to recreate the Marauders?"_

" _No. Well, a little. He is a fellow prankster – the thing when he entered must have been a show unless what happened just now was him losing control. And he did just call out all pure-bloods as his personal enemies."_

" _Not all of them. I think he personally challenged the Malfoy and all his fellow Death Eater supporters. For now, until we are certain, the Weasley's aren't his enemies."_

" _Agreed."_

" _If anything, a few people will come out of the woodwork and casually support Harry."_

" _Like who?"_

" _Definitely Longbottom. I mean, they only have Neville left, and they thought he was going to be a squib. I heard from Pop that the moment his grandma realized he was a wizard and was accepted to Hogwarts, she started looking into marrying him off… to multiple women."_

" _Lucky. Wait, isn't he under constant watch?"_

" _Neville? Only at home – something to do with possible future threats and the like. I heard from others that Dumbledore visited him from time to time over the years to check on him."_

" _What about the guy who runs the Quibbler? Didn't they write something similar about pure-bloods dying out a while back?"_

" _Probably something his daughter made up and got her dad to write – a lot of problems that caused. Although, based on what we heard now, we might have to give that article another read. I think Lucius tried to destroy the paper at that point, but he couldn't find a reason to claim that they were liable for slander since he couldn't prove that they were lying."_

" _Yeah, that got a laugh out of Pop. But still, is that your only reason?"_

" _No, of course not."_

" _Then why?"_

" _Because Draco is only going to be paying attention to Harry from now on. He will never see the two of us coming from the other direction. What better way to torture someone then by jumping along the plans of someone they have their eyes on constantly?"_

" _Oh, that's is so brilliant I could kiss you."_

" _I know but let's not. We have to write back to Mom as soon as possible, maybe even to Bill and Charles."_

" _How come?"_

" _What Harry said wasn't entirely wrong – some families who bothered keeping track must have noticed by now how stupid the offsprings of certain sibling marriages have become. When word gets back to the likes of Lucius and his friends about this, they are either going to go along with the polygamy law idea, or they are seriously going to consider the Weasley boys as possible marriage material for new blood – literally and figuratively. That or suddenly find a long-lost member of the family they 'removed from the family tree' for one reason or another." (7)  
_

" _You can't be serious ?"_

" _As Harry put it, they are more likely to share wives before stooping to marrying half-bloods or even Muggle-born witches. No, Bill is the oldest and in the best possible position of power compared to Charles with his dragons in Romania. Percy already has that girl from Ravenclaw, what's her name…."_

" _Penelope Clearwater"_

" _Yes, her. They will probably try to get someone for Bill unless he isn't in a relationship already… is he in a relationship? Never mind. We don't have anyone – thank God – but we never got such attention from girls before."_

" _You realize by your argument's reasoning, if some of them start paying attention to us, it means that they are secretly Death Eaters right?"_

" _Not all them. Ravenclaws are more likely since they are more aligned with Slytherin ideals, but there ARE other pure-blood families of low standing who simply want to keep their houses going. Besides, it's not like we are stupid or weak – even the strictest of parents who hear of our exploits have to acknowledge we have potential."_

" _Are still working on the theory that we are being spied on by Aurors and Unspeakables?"_

" _We saw the same guy at the Apothecary AND bookstore at least six different times."_

" _Coincidence but I see your point. I still doubt they would recruit us so early."_

" _Doesn't matter. The one we have to watch out for is Ron and Ginny."_

" _Now I am lost."_

" _Ginny because she is a girl and most Death Eaters only have sons – a girl with no familial blood connections is the best choice for them to restart mixing their families in the future. Ron…"_

" _He isn't bigoted Fred, he is just… uninformed."_

" _He better get informed quickly then. He may enjoy the stories Dad tells him at dinner, but behind his back, he sees them as nothing more than an odd hobby or quirk to indulge in. If Ron is convinced otherwise that Muggles are worse than us…"_

" _No, we have to make sure that he doesn't get JEALOUS of the Muggles rather than believe he is superior to them."_

" _Right… with five brothers all better than him and in their own specialized fields, he must be insecure. Crap, when he finds out that Ginny can play Quidditch better than him…"_

" _Exactly. So, to recap. This year, while still pretending to be our fun goofball selfs, we have to: torture Draco more, convince out brother Ron not to become a Death Eater or a supremacist, make Harry our friend, continue expanding our franchise, AND not get involved in the twisted backroom politics of the Houses."_

" _Until we are older at least."_

" _Fine – until we order. Start dating 6th year?"_

" _Let's leave that one for later. What about introducing Harry to our little group?"_

" _Let's see where he gets sorted first. If he is in Gryffindor, we befriend him immediately. If he is in anther house, we will figure something out."_

" _Agreed. Mischief accomplished?"_

" _Mischief accomplished."_

Ron looked up at his brothers, "You realize you guys haven't said anything in the last few minutes, right?"

* * *

Hermione watched as Harry sat back down on his side of the compartment. He radiated fury.

Crookshanks carefully approached his master, positioning himself to be petted. Harry noticed his pet and started to distract himself from his anger.

Hermione observed without attempting to make any sudden movements, Harry noted her apprehension as he stroked his cats.

"I am sorry you had to see that. I try to keep my emotions in check, but he is just so…"

"How did you know their names?"

"Excuse me?"

"Crabbe and Goyle – Draco's goons. They never said their names."

Harry looked the girl in surprise, "That's what's bothering you after all w hat happened?"

"Well, no… It's just they never said their names."

Harry sighed, "But everything else I said you agree with?"

"I kind of do," said a voice outside the door.

Before Harry or Hermione could inquire, the boy who looked in earlier slowly opened the door – only this time, he had his toad in his hand.

"Finally found the bugger in a dark and damp place didn't you?"

The boy looked at Harry shock, "How did you know?"

"He is a toad," interjected Hermione. "And you are?"

The boy gave Harry a glance, "Your friend Harry already probably knows."

Hermione looked to Harry for confirmation, "He is Neville Longbottom, Scion and future Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom. The only son of respected Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom, members of the Order of Phoenix and opposing force to the notion of pure-blood supremacy."

Harry got up, pulled Neville inside and closed the compartment door. As Neville panicked at the size of Harry, he only shook his hand. " I am truly sorry for what Voldemort did your family. You are a brave man for visiting them as often as you do, regardless of what those bastards tell you. You and folks like you are always a welcome addition to the world."

While Hermione tried to understand everything that Harry just said, Neville tried his best not to stutter, "Than…Thank you for that. But how did you know?"

As Harry sat Neville down next to Hermione – and after giving him a chocolate frog – he continued. "Your parents were very famous before you were born and what happened to them isn't for me to tell to others," Harry gave Hermione an understanding glance, "But everything else regarding them – including your visits to them in 's – is public record. You just have to have the patience and understanding to know where to look and inquire."

Neville nodded in acceptance as he stroked his toad, "You weren't acting… You really do hate those supremacist and their kin."

"Can you blame me? I am from America, the land of opportunity, equality, and improvement – at least on paper. We tend to look down on those who abuse their status and authority to improve their standings without the necessary effort. They may be able to abuse the system, but as my family likes to put it, 'payback is a bitch.'"

Neville and Hermione nodded in understanding.

"It may not come soon, but karma always manages to find a way to screw over people like Draco in the end."

Hermione turned around to introduce herself to Neville, "Hi, I am Hermione Granger, Muggle-born."

"Neville Longbottom, pure blood and proud of it, regardless of what you may believe."

Hermione nodded, "Anyone who seems me as a witch and despises the M-word is a friend in my book."

Harry smiled, "This seems like the start of a beautiful friendship."

Hermione smiled, "Would be even funnier if you were half-blood so that we three could cover the spectrum."

Harry laughed at that. _If only she knew._

* * *

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there."

Harry and Hermione had spent the last few hours getting to know Neville better as the train traversed the British landscape to reach Hogwarts. While Neville was a little on the pudgy side and a bit more than frightened of the whole endeavor of going to Hogwarts then someone should be, it didn't actually mean he didn't have a backbone.

Then again, living under a roof with someone like Augusta Longbottom and finding your powers by being dropped from a window ledge is bound to do some psychological damage. Harry and Hermione did their best to alleviate Neville's doubts regarding his heritage – by primarily pointing out that he should really get his own wand rather than use the one he got from his father – but there is only so much you can do in a short session.

Hermione and Neville were already robed, so while they went to get their things in order, Harry spend his time locking up Crookshanks for pick-up and getting his robe out from the trunk.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Harry sighed in joy for the cold night air – living in Massachusetts will do that to an impressionable kid. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: " **First years! First years over here! All right there, Harry?"**

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

" **C'mon, follow me — any more first years? Mind your step, now! First years follow me**!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on all sides but with Harry's night vision, he and the gang traversed without much trouble. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice before putting on a scarf.

" **You'll get your first sight of Hogwarts in a sec,** " Hagrid called over his shoulder, " **just round this bend here.** "

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

 _NOW THAT is a castle. Never understood why they fell out of fashion. Must have been something to do with the decline of the aristocracy._

" **No more than four to a boat!** " Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry was followed into his boat by Neville and Hermione and a red haired kid they didn't know.

" **Everyone in?** " shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. " **Right then — FORWARD!** "

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the magnificent castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

" **Heads down!** " yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads, and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

" **Oy, you there! Is this your toad?** " said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

" **Everyone here? You there, still got your toad?** "

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

 _Must be the great Minerva McGonagall. Better stay on her good side._

" **The first years, Professor McGonagall.** "

 _And there is my confirmation._

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Crowley's study in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

Harry noted all the ambient energies of the castle, intertwined together like some sort of living being.

 _Automatic defense system? The castle is definitely alive on some low level, sort of like an ambient protection grid. Makes things easier for me after I plot out the energy lines and circuits for this place. Probably going to need a little restructure but I doubt the owner will complain when his system improves…_

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

 _Nothing that Neville hasn't already informed us and Hermione hasn't backed up with her readings._

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry turned to Neville. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?"

"Some kind of test, I think. I was told that it isn't anything dangerous but who knows for sure."

Harry looked around and saw that everyone else looked terrified, except for a few who looked on confidently.

 _Must be the wizard-born kids who asked their parents about this 'test.'_

No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to this so called 'test.'

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

"What the…?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

 _Seriously? Ghosts? Like I didn't have enough to be concerned about. If they are anything like the once I encountered, they can probably sniff out my heritage. Thank god I wore my earrings. Have to check a book later to make sure wizard ghosts are different from human ghosts. (8)  
_

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely. Harry was not one of them – he was trying his best to understand what the ghost was with what limited information his eyes allowed him.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind Neville and Hermione, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

 _Don't need to tell me – I can see all the magic that makes this place work. Have to admit, for spellwork that's probably a few centuries old, it held up nicely to deterioration._

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in

front of the first years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

 _My god!_

Harry did his best not react in wonder at what he was looking at. He knew right off the bat that the hat was enchanted on such a degree that it was actually sentient. It was tied directly to the school as well, probably because it was made to work in tandem with it. Some of the connections have frayed, but everything else…

 _Do they know just what they have here? I mean the effort alone to make the thing is incredible! Even if I had all the time in the world, it would take me YEARS to give life to an inanimate object. Just what the hell have these wizards stumbled on? Do they not realize the potential such spells have?_

Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" said a redhead out loud. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on a hat was a lot better than having to do some sort of spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking for a lot of personal information.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see a pair of red headed twin catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Harry snarled at that house: didn't need to have magical sight to know that most of the people there were pure-blood supremacists. He noted a few that didn't have such taint in their essence – they probably represented the true ideals of the house. Unfortunately, they were a minority, a voice in a crowd that didn't have the volume to be heard.

"Cullen, Alice"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Dewdrop, Scarlet"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Francis, Lisa"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others, it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," a sandy-haired boy, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. (9)

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

"Lawyer, Joe"

"RAVENCLAW!"

When Neville Longbottom was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "Malfoy, Draco."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

"MacLeod, Harry"

Harry stepped up to the podium to sit in the chair. The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

" _My, my, aren't you full of secrets, Mr. Potter?" said a small voice in his ear._

" _Is that going to be a problem?"_

" _No need to panic and set me on fire. And yes, I know about your nature – I know everything the person I am worn on knows."_

 _Harry panicked. "But my earrings …"_

" _Are very well constructed if I may be so bold. But unfortunately, you put me on willingly which means I can bypass their protection quite easily – doesn't really mean I have access to everything in your mind. However… this place is too complicated for me to figure out at first glance. Out of curiosity, did you make this mental palace to deal with Occlumency?"_

" _With what?"_

" _Wizard equivalent of mind reading. Seriously, you made these just as a precaution?"_

" _Strange how paranoia can link up with reality now and then."_

" _Don't quote Philip K. Dick on me now. What, did you expect to run into someone who has Legilimency?"_

" _If that is the Wizarding World equivalent of mind reading, then yes, apparently I did. To be fair, it's not often you do run into someone with that particular talent, but hey, I am not going to question it."_

 _The hat sighed, "Well, you are clearly more informed than most people here. Your magic is a bit peculiar, but that won't be an issue…"_

" _Okay, are you seriously jumping over the fact I am a part-demon, part-angel, all wizard supernatural being who happened to make enchanted earrings against prying minds and who is currently more weaponized than most special force agents?"_

" _When you have been around as long as I have, you stop being surprised. Besides, while you have done some dark things in your short but eventful life, they were all for validly good reasons. That, and based on what I can gather, your current plans in progress aren't exactly detrimental to the well being of the Wizarding World or Hogwarts. Well… maybe one or two, but they are back in your subconscious, so we don't have to worry about them for a good… two or three years."_

" _Really? Any of them good?"_

" _One does involve Minister Fudge, but it's mostly a weird chain of events kind of scenario. You don't have a lot to work with…"_

" _Look, I know you're enjoying your conversation and all, but we have been having this little talk for a while now. You don't think the others are getting worried?"_

The hat looked around the room. Their conversation has been mental, so to others, it seemed liked the hat and boy were just waiting for something to happen.

" _Alright, let's take a look. You aren't a Hufflepuff, that's for sure. You are smart and witty, but that's more due to your modified mind rather than nature, so you're not actually Ravenclaw material."_

" _HEY! I am making my own grimoire!"_

" _It's more like a personal reference guide and encyclopedia than an actual grimoire. Give yourself a few more years and create your own spells THEN you can call it a grimoire."_

" _Fair enough."_

" _Now usually, with everything you had to go through, you would fit with Gryffindor, but you only have bravery to face adversity, which isn't enough. You don't have enough daring, chivalry, or even nerve."_

" _Seriously? I was tortured by Satan and lived – how is that not nerve?"_

" _That's more like extreme willpower and resistance to pain. So, unfortunately…"_

" _No, no. You are not putting with those inbred supremacists."_

" _The original traits that were sought out for Slytherin were resourcefulness, cunning, ambition, determination, self-preservation, and cleverness. Your gonna look me in the face and tell me that they don't describe you?"_

" _Damn it… Fine, I'll work with what I get."_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ironically, most people belonging to that house didn't cheer for Harry. Which made sense for the ones that didn't hear what happened on the train ride. Draco and his goons were downright furious at this. In any case, only Neville and Hermione gave Harry worrying glances, like they saw something that was unexpected.

Strangely enough, the scene even caught one or two teachers off guard, primarily Hagrid.

As McGonagall was about to call the next person, the hat made itself heard. "MACLEOD!"

Everyone watched in shock as Harry turned around as he was about to join his new classmates. Apparently, the hat speaking its mind was unheard of.

"You may be trying to distance yourself from your past, but I couldn't place you in any other House – not with what you had gone through."

Harry shrugged, milking the moment for all its benefit. "I don't hold you responsible. Are we still going to meet and talk in the future?"

"I'll have to work it out with the Headmaster, but how about October if nothing comes up?"

"Good enough for me."

As Harry finally sat down, he noted that almost every student were staring at him opened mouthed. _Looks like I did the impossible – I became friends with a talking hat._

This strangely didn't bother Professor McGonagall at all, as she quickly went back to her list.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"…, "Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls," Patil" and "Patil," then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…,

Harry took a moment to check the front of the room. He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky

Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Thomas, Dean."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Turpin, Lisa."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Venator, Umbra."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Weasley, Ron."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Yonder, Thea."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

And finally, a Blaise Zabani was sorted into Slytherin – except he received significantly more cheering than Harry did it.

As Harry looked down at his empty golden and wondered when they would eat, the Headmaster got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

As Harry went on to eat like nothing bothered him, he started to observe and memorize everyone reaction toward him. Most Slytherin downright gave him the look of hate, but that was expected – he already noted those who clapped and applauded for him. The other houses were giving him some thought as well. Most probably were aware of what happened on the train, so he had some points there. The hats revelation that he was sorted not out of personality but rather due to no other choice also seemed to have tainted their opinions.

Harry did his best not to stare at the teacher table since there was a good chance that looking at Dumbledore could blind him. The amount of magic connecting him to the school as a whole was staggering and Harry hoped that it wasn't a constant thing because he didn't want to wear his glasses everytime he spoke with the man – no matter how unlikely that was to be.

He did note everyone else, though. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes. Nothing happened after that, but the teacher did give him an odd look.

Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the red-headed twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed."

 _Well, this is going to suck._

* * *

It did suck.

The song was still stuck in his head as he and rest of the Slytherin House traversed the castle dungeons to their dorms.

They finally approached a stone wall deep in the dungeon, to which one prefect loudly spoke the phrase 'Pure-blood.'

Slowly, a passage revealed itself, which led them to a large common room. It was very dungeonesque look to it, with greenish lamps and chairs. This dungeon was probably located under the lake at this point which explained the light in the room having a green tinge. There were lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas, skulls, and dark wood cupboards. It was decorated with tapestries featuring the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins. It had quite a grand atmosphere, but as Harry noted, quite a cold one as well.

"Alright, everyone. Boys Dorms are on the right, and Girl Dorms are on the left. Get some sleep in, classes start tomorrow. Your belongings are going to be on your beds. Good night."

 _Not a very social bunch, are they?_

AS Harry entered the dorms, he noted that it too had the same ambiance as the common room. The walls were decorated with Slytherin crests, there were ancient four-posters with green silk hangings, and silver lanterns hang from the ceilings.

Harry quickly noted Crookshanks waiting for him on his bed, his magical trunk on the side.

He took a quick glance around the room and noted that Malfoy was sleeping right next to him, with Crabbe and Goyle nearby. Didn't need to turn around to notice that there were a lot of people giving him the glare of hate.

 _Better be safe than sorry._

Harry kneeled down to his trunk and activated a function on it to seal it to the floor.

"What do you think you are doing, MacLeod?"

Harry looked and noted a sneering Draco staring at him.

"Nothing – just getting ready for bed."

"What, do you plan to sleep in your robes like some sort of Mudblood?"

 _Okay, you are seriously stupid, aren't you?_

"First of all, you do recall what I told you on the train right? What, did you dismiss it as a figment of your imagination?"

Harry spotted the hesitation in the kid's movement, as well as the spastic movement of anger in some other students. _Must be Draco's friends or friends of the family. Nice to know._

"Secondly, why would I sleep in such a small bed?"

That caught Draco off guard, "Excuse me?"

Harry unlocked the spell on his trunk, opening it and unlatching the staircase to go into it, "Come on Crookshanks, there more space in here. Plus, I got to feed you."

The cat quickly jumped into the trunk, and Harry followed suit. Right before he closed the lid, he looked back at Draco, "In case you're wondering, yes, this is a magical trunk. Yes, I have a nicer and bigger bed inside. Yes, it is magically linked to the floor and the castle as a whole which means it can't be moved. And yes, it has magical protections on it to prevent the likes of YOU from fiddling with it. Good night."

Right as the lid was about to close, Harry whispered something that terrified Malfoy to his core: " _Better learn to sleep with one eye open Draco – I am coming for you._ "

* * *

 **(1) Again, pet peeve – how is it no Muggle has ever** accidently **fallen into it by leaning against the pillar?**

 **(2) Jennifer Lopez – "Let's Get Loud"**

 **(3) Do I even have to mention "Titanic"?**

 **(4) The song Harry plays on the guitar is "I've Been Everywhere" by Johnny Cash.**

 **(5) I'll address this later in the story, but for now, I am working under the assumption that Britain's Wizarding World population (i.e. Pure-bloods and half-bloods) has a ratio of about 1/10,000 of Britain's Muggle population. This is without the influx of Muggle-born and immigrants (however small that may be). As such, since Britain's population was 63.26 million in 2011, the population in the Wizarding world should be near 6500 WITHOUT the addition of Muggle-born and the like. Also, don't forget – a lot of people died due to Voldemort so the population should be bigger. Finally, age distribution graphs show that the population of people 10-19 is about 7.5%; again, not counting Muggle-borns, comes out to about 475, or the student population of Hogwarts, or about 68 new kids every year. Even if that number is on the low side (due to before and** post war **births), if we assume that supposedly, 25% or less of that** are **just Pure-bloods (even with their limited numbers or if they are from lower houses), it rounds up to 17 kids. If all Pure-bloods are related and we assume that age isn't a big issue in marriage, that is still a very small gene pool to work with, especially since they aren't helping themselves as they only have one kid each.**

 **(6) While never addressed, Prewett's and Weasley's don't seem to have much mixing with other Pure-blood families most likely due to their low standing economically and socially. However, this has effectively made them a gold-mine of gene purity to other Pure-bloods. Don't believe me? They had seven kids: you can argue fertility varies between people or potions were used, but I argue that inbreeding has severely weakened this in the other families (or it some sort of defense mechanism, like squibs being a genetic defect or mutation to correct against inbreeding).**

 **(7) (Long winded evil laugh)** God **I love you foreshadowing.**

 **(8) Will address ghost difference later. I actually have a plan to explain how Dementors came to be and how to possibly kill them by using the 'Supernatural' universe.**

 **(9) No Ron Weasley influence = Hermione in the House she should belong**


	17. The More Things Change

**Chapter 17: The More Things Change**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Can't believe I have to do this again but some people left me no choice:**

 **1\. Reviews are there to inform others about this work or provide constructive criticism. From now on, if I start seeing reviews that lean toward the negative bend or are just there for the reader to vent, I will report you. IF YOU DONT LIKE THIS WORK, STOP READING - DON'T RUIN IT FOR OTHERS.**

 **2\. As I mentioned in my earlier chapters, I stick as close to the original source material for a reason. Maybe I am trying to be too deep with my foreshadowing or my message, but here it is for those who don't get it: THE MORE THINGS CHANGE, THE MORE THEY STAY THE SAME.**

 **3\. I have plans for this story - at least the major mile markers anyway. I may and will flub on minor details - as pointed out by lisafrancis.96780 - which I will correct.**

 **4\. For those who are not enjoying Harry's rules, powers, and 'incarceration' - I WILL ADDRESS THEM IN THE FUTURE! Everything I write is not without reason. This is called world building, not leaving footnotes at the end to explain everything for the readers. I am building suspense, not indulging my mental fantasy by making Harry some kind of ubermensch. HE HAS WEAKNESSES, AND HE IS DAMAGED.**

 **5\. I have no preference one way or the other about adding romance to this story. I personally am not a fan of the genre, but if the story starts to lean that way, I will go where it takes me. So stop messaging me about Harry/Hermione pairing.**

 **6\. PLEASE STOP MESSAGING ME ABOUT THE WEASLEYS! They will have a role to play.**

 **7\. I will address/continue the talk Harry had with Hermione regarding magic. As the story develops, I will try to introduce more of it.**

 **8\. For those wondering about the "Supernatural" aspect of the story... I have plans for them in the later years of Hogwarts. For now, I will sprinkle things here and there (i.e.,. human/animal mind meld is directly from Season 9 for those wondering) to keep you appeased. I will mention that I am still stuck regarding my opinion for the British Men of Letters (for those currently up to date on the show). When the season finishes, I will make up my mind.**

 **9\. For the one reader (I won't mention by name) who figured out what I did with Harry regarding his 'incarceration' - WOW. Didn't think anyone would remember that little tidbit of trivia from 'Supernatural.' GOOD FOR YOU!.**

 **10\. For the readers who caught their account names in the story - that was just a small thank you for your constructive reviews and frequent messaging.**

 **11\. Please message me if you are interested in being a beta-reader.**

 **ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!**

* * *

Try as he could, Harry simply couldn't get around the whispers that followed him every time he left the dormitory. If it wasn't for his appearance – which, now with his robes on, only mattered regarding his gloves and earrings – then it was for what happened with Draco on the train.

It could also be regarding his wealth.

Harry was never one to worry about the value of a dollar, or galleon in this case. While Crowley has never spoiled him, it's not like Harry ever indulged himself. He usually had everything he needed back at his home cabin. Whatever he did need he usually brought in the city on credit or with pocket cash. However, his trunk told a different story. While he never gave specification regarding what the trunk could do, apparently someone in Slytherin knew about the model and told everyone else.

Either Hagrid has more money than he lets on - since he wasn't surprised by Harry's purchase - or he just doesn't pay attention to the monetary value of things (1). From what he could infer, his trunk was worth more than most houses.

This apparently unnerved a few people – primarily those in Slytherin – and some kids in the other houses. Notably, however, it infuriated a 1st-year red-head Gryffindor in Harry's double potions class.

 _What did I do to that Weasley kid to get him so angry up at me?_

If anything, Harry was trying to ignore the stares around him to try and concentrate on memorizing the school layout before class started. From what he could gather, there were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. The ghost should have been a problem with him as well – since he never got around to reading up on them – but they seemed to avoid him altogether. He didn't try to figure out why nor did he want to inquire; he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Argus Filch was going to be a problem since the man always seemed to appear from the behind the corners without anyone noticing and also thought the worst of kids.

His cat Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's, was less of a problem. While she patrolled the corridors alone and instantly reported troublemakers to Filch - who'd appear two seconds later somehow – it wasn't hard to get her to ignore Harry. Mainly because Crookshanks managed to show her who was in charge: the guy hasn't been in the school even a week and yet he already seemed to be running it. Ironically, despite the fact that many knew who his owner was at this point – since Crookshanks somehow managed to sneak into the dining hall to be petted by Harry during lunch – no one seemed to get the nerve to do anything to him. Harry wasn't going to inquire, but supposedly it was because Crookshanks kept Mrs. Norris away, which made many people – including the twin redheads – very happy.

On the plus side, getting lost a few times helped Harry get his bearing regarding the place as well as figure out where he would put his markers. He made these things a long time ago as magical stealth cameras, but he could never get around to make them work properly. However, with the magical energies that permeated the castle, he was able to finalize his plans for good locations to set up his network. A few days of sleepless nights should give him more than enough time to at least cover the easily accessible areas of the school.

Speaking of school, Harry seemed to find it mildly amusing. That was expected with some of the classes he was taking.

Studying the stars every Wednesday at midnight bored him since he already knew all the constellations, stars and planetary movements of the planets as many magics required such intricate knowledge (2). The teacher – Professor Aurora Sinistra – caught that on the very first class: rather than look through the telescope with the rest of the first years, Harry spend his first Astronomy class being the teacher aide. Many wanted to complain, but he got them points, so they stayed silent.

Herbology with Professor Sprout three times a week was more enjoyable. The Head of Hufflepuff didn't have any hard feelings regarding Harry: it seemed like that fact that he was on friendly terms with her best student Neville– _good for him –_ made her ease up on him. That was only strengthened then Harry displayed his extensive knowledge regarding Muggle plants and herbs. Strange and magical plants were not Harry forestay no matter how much he read the books so learning something new and working with his hands appealed to him.

History of Magic – the less said about Professor Binns class, the better. Harry was seriously considering setting up some kind of cheating system, but since he already memorized the texts, he instead spend the early morning class times working on his grimoire or drawing up the plans for the schools soon to be improved security system.

Professor Flitwick, a tiny little wizard – due to his goblin heritage, as Harry correctly deduced – was definitely a fun teacher. While his stature was a problem at times, he never seemed to get bogged down by it. Harry also seemed to enjoy the intricacies behind the study, from hand movements and proper pronunciations. They haven't gotten to actual spell work yet – being first week and all – but Harry had a nagging thought that his wand was going to cause issues. He was going to ask Flitwick about it, but after he had caught wind that the Head of Ravenclaw used to be a Dueling Champion – which Harry confirmed by checking his MASSIVE energy reserves – he figured Tiamat wasn't going to be as much of an issue as he thought.

Professor McGonagall's class was again different – mainly because she simply confirmed Harry's earlier assumption: DON'T CROSS HER. He learned that lesson the hard way earlier on in the week.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed – particularly Harry, since he saw it all on the magical micro level - and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. Most Slytherin couldn't get the match to even turn silver. Some managed to at least turn it into a needle made of wood. Draco and his goons couldn't do anything to it at all. McGonagall was about to give up on most of the Slytherin before she got to Harry, who was calmly sitting and writing in his notebook.

With a dozen or so needles in front of him.

"MacLeod."

Harry looked up from his notes at the surprised Headmaster of Gryffindor, "Yes, Professor McGonagall?"

"Did you transform all these matches into needles without using your wand?"

"No Professor. I put her away after doing it a few times to take down notes regarding how to do it properly as well as the energy requirements for it."

The professor looked in confusion – as did a few other students nearby. "Her? You named your wand?"

"Mr. Ollivander said that there was nothing against naming a wand. Was he incorrect?"

"No, it's just… somewhat odd. Any particular reasons you are taking down extra notes when you have already clearly mastered this simple spell?"

Harry shrugged, "Not really – I only learned how to perform its basic movement and do it verbally. Now it's down to understanding its particular casting intricacies that apply to me as well as eventually casting it nonverbally. The energy requirement is just so that I know how much and to what degree I can cast the spell before I tire."

The professor gave Harry a rare smile, "Ten points for Slytherin, Mr. MacLeod, for your due diligence as well as _excellent_ spell work."

 _Oh, she is going to be a fun one._

Again, like with Professor Sprout's class, some wanted to outright kill Harry - although that could just be Draco - but the house points were definitely a deterrent.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. For another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins – the red heads, as Harry finally learned - insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Basically, Harry was annoyed by the total lack of correct knowledge as well as the bad energy waves he gave off. Unless Wizard World vampires and zombies were different from the ones he faced in America, he definitely felt that DADA class was going to be a bore for him – at least on the knowledge side of things. He felt like correcting the professor at times, but he figured to stay in his good graces for now. Besides, the spells could still be useful.

Even Hagrid seemed to fancy Harry on some level. A day back during breakfast, a large owl landed in front of him during mail time. While she fed on the bacon Harry gave her, he quickly read the untidy scrawl of the friendly giant, who wanted to inquire if Harry could go for a spot of tea at his earliest convenience. He quickly replied that he would see him soon and sent the owl off.

Frankly, the week was going as well as Harry expected.

He just didn't expect the week to end as it did in Potions class.

Harry snapped back mentally into class when Professor Snape entered the room and started doing roll call. He gave Harry an odd look when he spotted him sitting next to Neville.

Double Potions was a shared class with Gryffindor and Slytherin. Almost everyone split off into pairs with their own house, but Harry – being only familiar with Neville and could give a rats ass regarding student behavior – instantly went to sit with his friend. Thankfully, Longbottom wasn't against it. Although, their height difference did make it uncomfortable for Neville to look up at him.

 _Okay, I know I am large for an eleven-year-old but seriously, do they not feed their wizard kids or something?_

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle glared at Harry's head from the back of the room – Harry didn't bother inquiring why. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

 _Say what you will about the man, but at least his ego isn't running the show - he can probably back up the claims. Although, if you could brew glory and fame, wouldn't you use it one yourself to teach somewhere nicer? Should check up on those potions later…_

"MacLeod!" said Snape suddenly, "is there a particular reason you are using a Muggle writing utensil and paper?"

While the whole class was paying attention to Harry, he honestly saw no issue writing with a pen and a notebook – nor did any other teacher. "Well sir, the school rules only stipulate that assignments and anything given to teachers and staff has to be done in quill and parchment. There is no actual regulation regarding how a student takes his or her class notes. Since no other teacher raised the issue, I assumed that I am correct in that regard?"

Snape gave him a judging glare, "I will inquire the other staff members regarding this. In any case… What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

 _Thank god I read the textbook._

"Draught of Living Death, sir," Harry fired back with no hesitation. The silence in the class was palpable. Even Snape blinked, but slowly smiled.

"Where would I find a bezoar?"

"Inside the stomach of a goat."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing sir, they are the same plant. Muggle botanists call it aconite."

Snape was definitely starting to get puzzled, but he wasn't showing anger at Harry – if anything, it was curiosity.

"What is the most popular use of armadillo bile?"

"That would be the Wit-Sharpening Potion."

 _That's a fourth-year potion. What's the professor doing? If I haven't read the book…_

"Frozen ashwinder eggs?"

"Love potions, professor."

"Powdered moonstone and syrup of hellebore. What potion uses both ingredients?"

"That would be the Draught of Peace, sir."

 _That was fifth year – what is he up to?_

The fact that he knew the answers must be driving the man mad. However, Snape seemed not be even a little unnerved. In fact, only everyone in class – except for Neville, who was smiling and taking notes – appeared to be gawking at Harry's knowledge.

"Pomegranate juice?"

"Strengthening solution, sir."

"When must fluxweed be gathered to be useful for potion making?"

"During the full moon, sir."

The class had gone utterly silent, save for the scratch-scratch of Neville's quill as he quickly scribbled notes. Snape was downright giving Harry an evil smile.

"What are the uses of ginger root?"

"It's used in the Wit-Sharpening Potion. Oh, and it's good in many cuisines, primarily in Asia."

The professor gave Harry a surprised look while the class was downright petrified at Harry's response. "You cook MacLeod?"

"I prefer to bake, sir."

Snape looked around the classroom. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down like Mr. Longbottom?"

As the class tried to remember all that was spoken and scribble it down, Snape looked at Harry's hands, "Is that why you were gloves?"

 _OH CRAP!_

Harry actually flustered at that. "No, sir. That is for a personal reason."

Snape paused, looking at Harry for what felt like minutes. "It's difficult for you to use a quill with them on, isn't it?"

 _Don't deny it._ "Yes, sir."

Snape nodded yet again. "Under such circumstances, I would assume that you were cheating somehow, probably with a memory potion or secret codes through some sort of piece of clothing. However, if rumors about your earlier class performances are any indication, you are as intelligent as you appear. How did you know all that?"

"You can thank Hagrid for that. I met with him during my excursion into Diagon Alley. He mentioned a rule to an annoyed bookstore owner that no student is forbidden from buying advanced texts to self-study from. I had a lot of time on my hands before class started so…:"

Snape smile faltered slightly. "At least he is useful for something. In any case, thirty points for Slytherin for your answers," Snape gave a look at Neville, who was paralyzed from the focus the professor gave him. "Also… five points to Gryffindor for Neville being the only one to write down our banter." (3)

That finally made Neville ease his tension. Things only improved from there. Snape put all the pairs in class into mixing a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Harry, Neville, and Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

Until Harry interfered.

 _Hey, I did promise Malfoy I would be coming for him._

Snape was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Something was occurring in Malfoy's cauldron, something that started to melt it into a twisted blob, seeping the potion across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes and running the table legs. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Malfoy, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"You fool!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "You left the potion on too long under high flames, didn't you?"

Malfoy tried to say something but boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. As he walked forward toward the front of the class, he ordered everyone to get back to work.

 _Oh well, his good mood is gone, but it was worth screwing Malfoy. Guess pewter is easy to heat up with pyrokinesis._

* * *

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry smiled at Neville's cheerfulness. Apparently, it was a known fact that Snape had a disdain for anyone from Gryffindor. Yet, Neville managed to earn points!

"Just think, it could have been me in the hospital wing right now if you didn't stop me."

"The instructions did say to add the porcupine quills at that point. It's just that unless you read ahead, you wouldn't know that you had to take the cauldron off the fire first."

"How come he didn't tell you then?"

Harry smiled smugly, "Because he said that to people when they were getting to that part – we were way ahead by that point."

"Oh. I wondered why we finished so early."

"Hey, it cheered the man up when he saw how good it was so can't complain. Besides, Malfoy was the one who got distracted by all the hubris."

At that mention, Neville gave Harry a judging look. "What?"

"Did you do something to him?"

"Whatever do you mean Neville?"

Before Neville could inquire further, a familiar bushy hair girl ran down the stairs to meet them. "Is true?"

Harry looked at Hermione, "Is what true?"

"That Malfoy is in the hospital wing after flubbing up a simple boils potion?"

"He is, but I suspect that _someone_ had their involvement in that part." Neville was looking directly at Harry at this point.

Harry just raised his hands up in defense, "Hey, innocent until proven guilty. Besides, I was right next to you the whole time."

"Doesn't mean you weren't involved somehow."

"Whatever. Hey Hermione, you busy?"

Hermione thought about it, "No, my last class just ended. I was going to go to the dorm to study. Why do you ask?"

"I have a standing invite with Hagrid later today. You guys want to come along and meet the man? He is really friendly."

* * *

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked, they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, " **Back, Fang, back** _."_

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

" **Hang on,** " he said. " **Back, Fang.** "

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

" **Make yourselves at home,** " said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Neville and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Neville and Hermione, Hagrid. They are my friends" Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

" **Neville… You wouldn't happen to be Frank and Alice kid?"**

Neville looked up from Fang to look at the giant, "You knew my parent's, sir?"

Hagrid nodded, " **Indeed. They were wonderful children. Studius to a fault and committed to their house. They met each other early on and married soon after they graduated but before they became Aurors. I am sorry for what happened to them."**

Neville solely nodded while Hermione and Harry watched from the couch. "I visit them whenever I can. They don't always recognize me, but Mom gives me chewing gum wrappers, and Dad sometimes remembers me when I show him his wand." Neville said the last part as he took out his wand.

Hermione jumped at this, "Wait, why are you using your father's wand? Aren't wizards support to buy their own personal wands?"

" **Definitely, Mr. Longbottom,"** said Hagrid as he dipped a cake into his cup of tea, " **I may no longer have my own wand, but I still recall that an individual won't get the same results for spells with another wand compared to their own personal one. You have more than enough in your family vaults to get dozens of wands from what I heard."**

Neville sighed, "I wanted to, but Grandma Augusta wanted me to use my fathers…"

 _Oh no, I know enough tropes to see where the old Longbottom is going with this. Better stop before MORE damage is inflicted…_

"Next time you meet her, tell her you aren't your father."

Neville – along with Hermione and Hagrid – looked at Harry in surprise.

"I may not know you nor your grandmother well enough, but I know that forcing someone to live up and match someone else's expectations never ends well. I've known you for a week, and I can already tell you that you are different from your father based on the records about him. Sure, you have the same looks, and maybe you will grow up to be _like_ him, but not _exactly_ him. If anything, the pressure from your family to be like your father is probably what prevented you from activating your magic until late in life."

Neville stared at Harry in disbelief, but he went on, "Look, Neville, I am not saying to not live up to your father's image. I am only saying that you should make a name for yourself. The hat clearly placed your in Gryffindor because there's real bravery and loyalty behind that insecure and chubby exterior. Plus, unlike your father, you are a genius at Herbology based on what I heard from Professor Sprout – just like your mother. Play to your strengths. And seriously, get a new wand – I can tell from here your father's wand favors someone with transfiguration talents. You probably need something with cherry and unicorn hair."

Hermione looked at Harry studiously, "And when did you become an expert in psychology and wand lore?"

Harry took a sip of his eat, "Mr. Ollivander got me interested after I got my wand and as for psychology… After you managed to work with two adults who are stuck mentally as kids, one who is a genius and another who is skilled with weapons, little kids aren't a problem."

" **Where did you meet such people?"**

"They are brothers who cross my family's line of work from time to time."

"You're doing it again, Harry," interjected Hermione. "You are being all mysterious."

Harry smiled, "It's part of my charm, deal with it. Now, I believe it was Hagrid who invited us to talk about our first week?"

Hagrid shook his head in amusement, " **This is what you get when you mix a Ravenclaw, a Gryffindor, and a Slytherin together…."**

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Hermione and Neville pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes while Harry ate the cakes (4). Despite the looks his friends were giving him in regards to his monstrous jaw strength, all he told them was that they were only a little stale.

Harry and Neville were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch " **that old git**."

" **And as for that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like to introduce her to Fang sometime. Do you know, every time I go up to the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it."**

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson, which both didn't and did surprise the giant – as confusing as it is.

" **Rare to see him show favoritism to someone from Gryffindor – he hardly likes any of his students. The Malfoy boy, though… if he is anything like his father, he has it coming. You sure you didn't have anything to do with it, Harry?"**

Harry tried to change the subject any way he could when he remembered about the break-in.

"Hagrid," said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened the same day you were there. Did it have anything to do with the task you were carrying out for the Headmaster?"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry recalled the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact_ _been emptied earlier that same day._ Hagrid did visit vault seven hundred and thirteen, but Harry never inquired about what he took out – wasn't any of his business.

 _If my intuition is still any good, I would guess that it had something to do with the room on the third floor._

As Harry and the gang walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid.

 _Better leave that particular stone unturned for now Harry. Focus on setting up the surveillance system around the school._

* * *

Dumbledore watched everyone review the work for their first week of classes. Everyone was currently sitting around a grand table in the staff room, minus Finch, who was going the halls for any trouble makers.

"So, are there any issues to discuss before we go to bed?"

"The Hospital Wing is stocked and ready for the year," replied Poppy Pomfrey

" **The Forest is cleared out for dangerous near the school, and the borders are monitored, Headmaster,** " spoke Hagrid gloomily.

Dumbledore nodded and looked at the rest of the teachers, "McGonagall, Quirrell, Flitwick, Sinistra, Vector, Babbling, Sprout, Trelawney, Kettleburn, anything to add?"

Only Sprout raised her hand, "Did the Ministry approve my plans for a larger greenhouse?"

"I am afraid not, Pomona. I am afraid the Ministry has no favoritism for the study of plants. Anything to add, Professor Hooch?"

"We should really find some money in the budget to upgrade the brooms for the House Teams. I am seriously worried that the Slytherins are abusing their family money in their pursuit for new gear."

"Afraid not, Rolanda. If I show favoritism to the other House, Slytherin parents will scream bloody murder. I'll see if there is a loophole somewhere, but unless the other teams have a rich teammate or friends, there is nothing I can do about it (5)." Dumbledore finally looked at Snape sitting at the end of the table, "Anything to add Severus?"

"Nothing to add, Headmaster."

Albus leaned forward, "Not even about what happened to Mr. Malfoy? His father had already caught wind of it."

Snape sat still as a statue, "The boy messed up and didn't follow instructions. If he bothered to read ahead and review them, I wouldn't need to coddle and stroke his ego every few minutes to appease his father. At least Longbottom and MacLeod managed to lift my mood by finishing early and assisting me in the cleanup afterward."

This caught the Headmaster's attention, "A Gryffindor and a Slytherin together? How did that occur?"

" **They are friends, Dumbledore. Them and the Granger girl from Ravenclaw."**

Professor McGonagall looked at the groundskeeper, "Granger? You mean Hermione Granger? She is a brilliant girl – not as talented as MacLeod, but she was Muggle-born and just exposed to magic. With her intelligence, she will outpace him soon enough."

Flitwick turned from his seat, "How is a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw such close friends?"

Sprout chimed in, "It had something to do with what happened on the train. From what I can gather from my Hufflepuffs, Draco tried to become 'friends' with MacLeod. In the process, however, he insulted Miss Granger. Needless to say, Harry was not pleased."

Albus suddenly remembered the event as he turned to Snape, "Didn't he swear a vendetta on Draco and his goons?"

Snape shook his head, "I watched him, Headmaster. In no way did Harry interfere with the potion Draco was preparing – the fool simply left his fire on too long."

Albus leaned back smiling, "It's rare to see you defend a student – a Slytherin hated by his own house, none the less."

"I can relate."

The comment flew by many, but Albus heard the history and meaning behind the statement.

"Besides, I had a feeling and tested the boy in his knowledge. He is much, _much_ further ahead than his classmates in regards to book knowledge."

McGonagall added her two cents, "Don't forget his magic work as well. I saw the end result of him turning a dozen matches into perfect silver needles. He spend the rest of the class going over his work and making notes to himself about its intricacies and energy requirements."

"Did he use a pen and paper in your class as well?" asked Flitwick.

"I saw nothing wrong with it – he gives in his assignment on parchment in quill. He even puts inch markers on the side for convenience."

Sinistra giggled on the side, "Studious to a fault, that kid. How is he not in Ravenclaw?"

Dumbledore thought about it, "The Sorting Hap has been quite regarding his request to meet with the boy later on, but I can only assume that he has more Slytherin in him then Ravenclaw."

"Speaking of the cap," Professor Vector inquired, "his message to MacLeod is something to look into. 'Distance yourself from your past'… that's not something you hear about a child."

" **Probably something to do with his family. He is mentally older than the other students – even helped Neville deal with his insecurity issues."**

Albus turned to his longtime friend, "How so?"

" **I invited Harry for a spot of tea earlier today, but he brought along Hermione and Neville with him – said they were his friends. We got to talking, and Neville mentioned his parents and that he uses his father's wand. Took Harry less than a minute to give him a stir talking to stand up to his Grandmother, stop trying to live in his father's shadow, and get his own wand."**

Albus sighed in frustration, "I shall have words with Augusta. I warned her many times not to try to raise him as she did her son."

"How are you on such good terms with MacLeod anyway, Rubeus? Harry mentioned something about a bookstore…"

" **Oh, we met up on our way to Diagon Alley back in July. Spend the whole day shopping with him. Boys richer than most families – spend the whole day buying books from the stores there."**

Sinistra jumped in, "Is that how he got a golden telescope?"

" **Yes. He also wanted golden pots, but the list did say pewter. Got himself a high-end magic trunk as well."**

Albus leaned back into his chair, "Clearly, there is more to the boy than meets the eye."

Snape nodded, "If his gloves and scar are any indications, it's not something he wishes to discuss in the open."

" **It's probably fear of being judged unfairly,"** Hagrid mumbled absent-mindedly.

Albus didn't miss that slip of the tongue, "What do you mean, Hagrid?"

Hagrid panicked as everyone to look at the giant for his response, " **Well… It's not my place to say but… He seems to be trying to hold back the best he can… to seem normal as it were."**

"Normal? He knew the material for my class that is on the fifth year syllabus."

" **Not like that Severus. I mean… it's like he wants to distance himself from something and be known for his own personality and merits. It's probably why he became friends with Hermione and Neville. She treated him as a normal person, and Neville likes him for… his views I guess." (6)  
**

Albus knew a dangling hook when saw one, "You're holding something back. We won't judge him Hagrid – just tell us."

Hagrid tried to fiddle with his thumbs until they forgot, but they didn't relent. " **I think it has something to do with his magic, sir."**

"How so?"

" **If his wand is any indication, he has a lot of power – more than I can currently estimate."**

"What does his wand have to do with it?"

" **You will have to inquire Mr. Ollivander for the details – it was beyond me sir."**

Albus nodded, "Fine, we will leave that topic alone for now. For now, everyone, try to keep a close eye on Harry and his gang. A trio each from a different house is bound to raise some issues. Everyone is dismissed."

As everyone was leaving and Dumbledore wished them all a good night, he turned to the window to stare at the moon in the sky.

 _Seems like MacLeod becoming friends with Neville was a stroke of luck on my part. Already, he is improving the boy for the better. Seems like the prophecy is making it presence felt. The Granger girl, however… something may need to be done about that in the future._

* * *

 **(1) My Hagrid will be different – not clueless, more absent-minded rather than incapable of keeping secrets.**

 **(2) Harry basically has a photographic memory at this point and astronomy is common in most magic so him learning it beforehand isn't a stretch.**

 **(3) Good first impression = Neville understanding that Snape simply has high expectations = Him looking over his shoulder is more based on making sure he does everything right rather than hatred of Gryffindor. It's a stretch but I'll justify it in later chapters.**

 **(4) Why no one was more suspicious of Harry because of this is beyond me.**

 **(5) Foreshadowing – ain't I a stinker?**

 **(6) Again, my Hagrid will be different. This just shows that he does pay attention to his surroundings and others.**


	18. Isn't This a Little Akward?

**Chapter 18: Isn't This a Little Awkward?**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Well, if I hadn't jumped the shark already, I certainly did so now.**

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

Despite his nature, Harry was never really seduced and tempted by his power. He always had a professional mindset regarding their use: 'it was just business' and 'the end justifies the means.' A little dark and against human nature, but he stopped being human a while ago. Some might see that kind of outlook as a bit callous and sociopathic, but to him, it was just good judgment.

Except when a situation or circumstances prevented him from being fair or when he chooses to indulge his trickster side.

The two weren't always mutually exclusive.

Despite his short time on Earth, Harry has never believed that he would meet someone he despised as much as Draco Malfoy. The kid did everything in his power to get a response out of Harry. If it weren't trying to break into his trunk or go after his cat – who fought back and won – then Draco would be picking on someone else to vent his frustrations.

His usual targets were either 1st years or someone from Gryffindor.

Or rather, they used to be from Gryffindor.

See, Draco made the unfortunate mistake of picking on Neville at one point. While Longbottom did happen to grow a backbone by the second week of school, he still got a punch or two in the gut which 'no one saw.' Harry heard that Malfoy was picking on every 1st year from all the Houses beforehand, but now he favored Neville due to his association with Harry.

Big mistake.

By this point, word has gotten around about Harry's 'promise' to Malfoy, so the teachers paid attention when both were in the same room together. However, that didn't deter the teachers from questioning Harry when Draco was mysteriously struck by 12-hours of bad luck.

Long story short, by the end of the day, Draco had a bed that was on fire, destroyed robes, a cracked wand, both Crabbe and Goyle glued to each other through a Potion accident, and Draco in the Hospital Wing with multiple abrasions, cuts, and a broken arm.

Needless to say, that' s a story for another day, one that includes the explaining the usage behind Nordic runes, Harry's attempt at creating his own brand of magic, and as best as he could gather, assistance from some 3rd party in his torment of Draco.

He definitely wasn't the one behind whatever made Draco's tongue grow so big.

Anyway…

What made Harry hate Draco so much – besides the fact that most of the other Slytherin were his 'posy' – was how much he bragged about himself.

Take flying for instance. Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about 1st years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

 _Sure, like Draco actually knows what helicopters are. With how much families like his disdain Muggles and their technology, he probably read the word somewhere and is using it to fit the context of the story. (1)  
_

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had a good reason, because despite all the good things about him, Neville still managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

From what he could get out of Hermione, she was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday, Harry saw her reading a book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_. However, despite that, from what Harry heard, when 1st year Ravenclaws were called in for practice, she could barely get the broom to respond to her. Better yet, she could barely get it to fly.

Hagrid hasn't invited Harry back for tea again. Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

He stopped gloating after Harry managed to poison one of his sweets when he wasn't looking. No one could tie it back to him, and Draco started to fear his packages from then on.

In any case, today was the day for Slytherin and Gryffindor to take flying lessons. Harry was currently using the services of a rented owl to deliver his weekly correspondence to Dean, who, as Harry found out in shock, found his brother alive and free from Hell. He was also writing Bobby Singer about how to get out of his deal with Crowley for his soul. He didn't tell him everything, but he gave him enough to work with; by his estimates, the boys would arrive in Scotland in a week or so to desecrate his father's grave for his bones (2). Hopefully, they would be close enough for Harry to teleport to them without issue to take them back home – Dean did hate flying. As he was finishing up, he saw a barn owl fly to Neville with a small package from his grandma.

Harry got up from his table to approach Neville at Gryffindor. By this point in time, most of Gryffindor has gotten used to the fact that Harry and Neville were friends.

Except for Ron Weasley - the boy still held a grudge against Harry for some reason.

Harry watched as Neville opened it excitedly and showed a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall! Gran knows I forget things, so this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red, it means you've forgotten something."

Harry watched in amusement as the ball remained white. "You sure it's not broken, Neville?" (3)

Neville shook the ball to make sure, "Huh. Guess I haven't forgotten anything."

As Neville kept toying with the ball, Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Harry and Neville to their feet, half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, the gaggle of 1st year Gryffindor and Slytherin hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

Harry and the Slytherins were already there waiting for Gryffindor, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. During Harry excursion to place his wards in the school, he had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk (4). Harry got curious and took a closer gander at her.

 _Huh, pure human. Did she use some spell do make her eyes like that, or is it some spillover from being an Animagius?_

Harry did, in fact, know what an Animagius was due to his readings. Unfortunately, despite his relentless efforts, he has yet to find the process to become one anywhere publicly available. He heard about the Restricted Section in the library, but he felt that it wasn't time to go there yet – not until he was certain he could get in without any issues or anyone finding out.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old, and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

 _Should a school like this have a budget for sports equipment?_

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Neville's had risen to his hand at a leisurely pace.

 _Maybe brooms are like horses; they can tell when you were afraid._

If Harry's observation of Neville was any indication, there was a quiver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Neville were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips, flying twenty feet straight into the air.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted.

Took Neville a while to get back down, but it was evident on his pale white face that he was still terrified to get back on the broom. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he fell on the grass vomiting.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Bad case of vertigo," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class., "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about… up a tree?"

And that's when Harry's anger got the best of him.

"Put that down now, or the next thing in the tree is going to be your head, with your body somewhere nearby."

Harry noted the micro expression of panic that appeared on Draco's face. Unfortunately, the mind only has two responses for panic: fight or flight.

Malfoy had leaped onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, MacLeod!"

 _Well, since you asked so nicely._

Didn't take much effort on his part. All Harry needed to do was raise his hand, summon some power, and pull Malfoy down with telekinesis.

Straight toward the ground.

At full speed.

Crabbe and Goyle dived right underneath Draco just as he was about to land face first into hard rock. That still didn't save the three of them from feeling the full impact of the force of the broom.

 _Force equals mass times acceleration, bitches._

Harry calmly approached the mass quivering on the ground in pain, as every other 1st year tried to get as far from Harry as possible but still see what he was going to do. He stretched out his hand and took the ball straight out of Draco's till clutching grasp.

"Thank you for holding it for me Draco."

" _WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED?"_

Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall was running toward them.

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "What happened here?"

Harry, stone-faced, told it as it was. "Draco got on his broom despite clear instructions from Madam Hooch as she took Neville to the Hospital Wing. Unfortunately, he lost control and landed straight on top of Crabbe and Goyle."

Professor McGonagall looked straight into Harry's eyes, "Is that what happened?"

"It's the truth." _Technically._

"Is what Harry said true? Did Draco get on his broom despite explicit instruction from Madam Hooch not to?"

Everyone from Gryffindor started to nod immediately, but no one from Slytherin followed.

Professor McGonagall gave the trio on the ground of pure fury as they began to get up. "I swear, Mr. Malfoy, you and your friends, have been nothing but trouble from the first day! Detention with _me_ – not Professor Snape – for a week and ten points from Slytherin."

Harry winced. _That's going to come back and bite me in the ass._

Draco tried to defend himself, but as far as everyone as concerned, he did do just as Harry said. Besides, who was going to argue and actually say that a 1st year managed to perform wandless and wordless magic?

* * *

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Neville what had happened after he'd left the grounds with Madam Hooch. Neville had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it. Despite what happened earlier today, Neville seemed to have no problem with adding more ammunition to the cannon.

"Nope, we had witnesses. Draco fell off his broom, broke his arm _again,_ cracked a few of Crabbe and Goyle's ribs, and lost points. Here's your Remembrall, by the way."

As Neville put the bobble away in his bag, he turned to Harry, "You sure you had nothing to do with his injury?"

Harry gave his friend a wolfish smile, "I didn't even put a hand on him."

The horde of 1st year Gryffindor's sitting around Harry snickered in kind.

It was official from that day – Harry was only a Slytherin in name. After the 1st years saw what he did to Draco, the Slytherin had all but rejected him. The elder students of Gryffindor were still on edge, but the 1st years didn't even blink when they offered Harry a seat at their table when everyone in Slytherin locked him out.

Plus, they kept what actually transpired between themselves.

Harry was enjoying their company, talking about the differences between the House Dorms and Common Rooms, when Malfoy got behind him with Crabbe and Goyle by his sides.

"Look at you, MacLeod. How can you even call yourself a Slytherin, sitting surrounded by these… these… Gryffindors?"

Harry looked up from his meal, "Are you as stupid as you seem, or did you lose a few brain cells when you crashed into the ground?"

Draco started to raise his fist, but as the High Table near them was full of teachers, he couldn't do anything more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you, all healed up and ready to go." said Harry coolly

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. Midnight in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Harry sighed and looked at Draco again, "Can you at least _try_ to make your plans less obvious? What, do you actually think I am going to out at midnight – in apparent violations of rules – and get in trouble when a teacher _conveniently_ arrives because _someone_ told them there was going to be a duel in the trophy room?"

Harry couldn't help but hear a snicker come from Hermione at the Ravenclaw table.

Malfoy started to go red faced in fury as Harry got up and extended himself, showing how much taller and bigger he was then Draco – and his goons. As Draco tried to back up, Harry got him his robe and pulled him forward to whisper in his ear, " _You saw what I did to you on the broom - you really think I can't kill you where you stand_?"

Everyone observed as Draco froze and became as white as a corpse. " _It doesn't take much. Pinching the right nerve, stopping the blood flow to the brain, squeeze your heart – I mean, it's amazing what you can do with a simple spell when you can cast it without anyone noticing and with enough control._ "

Draco started to shake in fear as Harry continued. _That's right – keep thinking that I am doing it with magic._

" _Besides Draco, I don't need magic to get rid of you_ _ **. I've already killed someone with my bare hands – it won't be any different with you.**_ _"_

Draco ran.

He fell to the floor, got up in fear, and ran from the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco before chasing their master.

Harry smiles as he sat back down to finish his meal. If Draco was a dog, he just did the equivalent of running away, pissing on himself with his tail between his legs.

The 1st year Gryffindor cheered as soon as Draco was out of sight.

* * *

 _A few hours later…_

"You have to do something, Albus. I doubt that Lucius will stay quiet after this."

Albus watched Snape make his case regarding Lucius and Draco. "Severus, it is still the fourth week of the term. How much trouble could Draco have gotten into ?"

Severus smirked as he started to pace. "Too much. He keeps flaunting his status, he picks fights with everyone, and the less said about his coursework, the better. Let's not even bring up the fact he managed to break his arm – _twice –_ within the same week."

Albus nodded in comprehension, "And has MacLeod been tied back to any of these bouts of misfortune that have been plaguing Draco?"

Severus pinched his brow, "At first I thought he was being clever somehow, having others do his work for him. But Harry is despised by everyone in Slytherin, and he clearly didn't set Malfoy's bed and trunk on fire as he was in _an entirely separate part of the castle_ at the time. I mean, the 1st year Slytherins are making up stories saying that he _pulled_ Draco down from the sky straight into Crabbe and Goyle. Preposterous!"

"The reports said he did the exact same thing on the train when he pushed Crabbe and Goyle straight toward the walls and kept them there."

"But he is a 1st year!" spoke Snape in shock.

"So was Mr. Riddle at one point and he could set things on fire. Let's not forget what he became."

Severus flinched at the mention of Voldemort's original name – a fact not known to many.

Albus pulled on his beard, "Hagrid said that the boy was powerful. But to cast such a spell…"

"Muggle's call such phenomenon 'telekinesis' – the ability to manipulate the environment and things in it with one's mind. Harry did the same feat with a wandless and wordless casting of _Leviosa_ or some variant of the spell."

Albus chuckled, "Odd choice of spell to learn to perform without a wand."

Severus considered it for a moment, "It's a simple charm for sure, but at times, the simplest thing provides the widest range of applications. I can think of a dozen or so uses for the spell if it can be performed as flawlessly as Harry makes it seem."

Albus nodded, "What I wouldn't give to be able to summon a book with a mere thought from a shelf out of my reach."

Severus sighed, "In any case… what are we to do with Harry? If Draco can't stop Harry, then Lucius will force some other Slytherin to do the deed for him. His son is tarnishing the family too much for him to ignore and Draco knows that Harry is somehow involved."

Albus couldn't help but ask, "You being rather protective of the boy, Severus."

Snape flinched at the 'accusation,' but he didn't fluster, "The boy is nothing short of a genius, Albus. If he weren't such a stickler for rules, I would swear he was practicing somewhere in secret. I honestly regret giving him points since his fellow Slytherin always manage to lose them within a moment's notice. I swear, ever since the hat started putting less and less capable students into Slytherin, they have been getting by through Quidditch and the merits of the older capable students. Once the kids who were sorted before the trend started graduate, the students left will resort to cheating and sabotaging the other Houses just so they don't end up in the bottom at the end of the year."

Albus couldn't help himself – he started to laugh.

Snape wasn't smiling.

"Never thought I would see the day were Severus Snape would actually enjoy the presence of a student so much as to defend him from the wrath of his master."

"Lucius is not my master."

"Yes, but you answer to him."

Both men grew silent as Albus adjusted himself. "You do present a valid point, Severus. One way or another, Lucius will somehow get to MacLeod. While I do suspect that Harry is more than capable of defending himself, I doubt he would last long against multiple front attacks."

Severus pondered, "Is there any way to protect MacLeod without showing favoritism that Lucius could exploit?"

Albus shrugged, "Not unless Harry switches Houses to get away from the Slytherin."

Both paused at that, giving the other a judging glance.

"You can't be serious, Albus. The hat put him in Slytherin!"

Albus raised a finger, "Technically, the hat put him in Slytherin because he best represented the traits the House stood for – the fact it is full of Death Eater children with pure-blood ideology was never considered back then. However, there is a way around it that already has precedence…"

"There's precedence for such an event? Since when?"

Albus smiled, "Do you remember Sirius Black?"

* * *

 _The next day…_

Harry couldn't help but smile to himself as he walked toward the Dining Room for breakfast.

After spending a few nights sneaking around the castle, he finally finished setting up his surveillance network. Who would have thought a modified combination of the Eye of Ra, a rune for Odin's All-Seeing Eye, as well as a menagerie of Latin and Chinese characters, could create such an effective surveillance system?

 _I knew that it wasn't a waste of time to create this system during my 'incarceration'! Suck on that, Crowley!_

All that was left to do was create some sort of foci or amulet to serve as the central processing hub to link in with the system. Then, Harry would have eyes and ears _literally_ and _figuratively_ everywhere in Hogwarts. Now all he had to do was figure out the interface system, and he was ready to go.

Harry entered the room, expecting to eat at his usual corner spot at the Slytherin table, away from everyone else. He would get his usual breakfast, drink his coffee – half-cream, half-sugar, all black – and enjoy his Saturday by reading.

The moment he saw Dumbledore get up and walk to him made Harry realize that it wasn't going to be a typical day.

 _Oh crap. What did I do now? Did Draco actually blab to his dad?_

Harry quickly checked Draco, who was doing his best impersonation of an excited Chihuahua not trying to hump the table in excitement.

 _Yep, he told his dad. Guess he can swallow his pride when it benefits him._

Harry sighed and waited for the Headmaster to approach him. As the other students currently eating watched in both horror and curiosity – with a hint of nefarious glee from the Slytherin – at what was about to transpire.

"MacLeod, if I could have a moment of your time?"

Harry calmly stood up and walked toward the Headmaster, "Is there something wrong, Headmaster?"

 _Don't panic, don't panic…wait, no, that's wrong. Don't kill Draco, don't kill Draco…_

"It has come to my attention that you are rather ostracized by your fellow Slytherin, is that not so?"

Harry blinked in confusion, "I guess?" _Where is going with this?_

Dumbledore nodded, "Normally, I wouldn't offer this option to students since the need never arises, but I believe your _circumstances_ make it a viable option."

Harry kept looking confusion, the hall – and teachers – starring in turn.

"You see, when a student doesn't enjoy the company of his House peers for one reason or another, they can transfer and live in another House while still remaining part of the one they were sorted into."

Harry did his best not to go bug-eyed. _You clever bastard!_

Harry turned, slowly smiling at Draco, watching, as the blonde's chance to kill him was slipping away.

"While this rule has existed for a long time, it has never been used. It was almost implemented by the Black Family a few years back for their son Sirius to put him in Slytherin, but he declined and stayed in Gryffindor."

Professor McGonagall suddenly gasped, a smile appearing on her face.

 _Well… isn't that terrifying. Hope she doesn't start laughing or else it's the Apocalypse all over again._

Harry did his best to play innocent and clueless, "What exactly you are suggesting, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled in turn, noting that Harry understood the game being played. "Well, Professor Snape was concerned for your safety, so he requested that you were placed in the Gryffindor House for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts." Dumbledore turned to look at Professor McGonagall, "If of course, the Head of Gryffindor allows it?"

All of Slytherin and Gryffindor stared at the High Table, as Professor McGonagall replied, "Well, if Slytherin doesn't want him, then who am I to deny such a gifted student of being part of my House?"

 _Damn. Griphook wasn't kidding when he said Dumbledore was a Chessmaster._

Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "So, with your permission, may we start the transfer of your belongings to Gryffindor?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, playing his role in the grand machinations of the Headmaster, "When you phrase it like that… who am I do reject such an offer?"

Dumbledore nodded, "But of course. From this day forth, you unofficially part of the Gryffindor House. Officially, however, you will still be listed and graduate from Slytherin. Oh, speaking of which…"

Dumbledore took out his wand – finally letting Harry glimpse the fabled Elder Wand - and performed some sort of spell on the hourglasses that were against the wall. Harry never bothered with them, since they simply showed which house was winning points wise. But even he couldn't help but smile as a big chunk of sand disappeared from the green hourglass as the sand in the red hourglass rose.

 _It was at this moment that Draco Malfoy realized… that he fucked up._

As he finished with his spell, Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "It's only fair that you leave with the points you earned. But my, you have been one busy little Slytherin, haven't you?"

Harry couldn't help himself, "Well we are supposed to be a rather ambitious bunch, aren't we?"

"Indeed they are, " stated Dumbledore as matter-of-fact as he could while looking upon a mortified and confused Slytherin House, which has just dropped from first place to last place in a span of few moments. "Now, I believe you were planning to eat breakfast with your House? Don't tell me - half-cream, half-sugar, all black, right?"

Harry smile faltered, "How do you know how I take my coffee?"

"It's not often that a house-elf comes to me from the kitchen inquiring as to how to prepare a Muggle beverage."

Harry chuckled before he caught the implication, "Wait… Wizards don't have coffee?"

"It's popular in the New World, but it never caught on with the rest of us. On the other hand, I found someone who sells at a very decent price. Plus, Snape seemed to have gained a fondness for it." Dumbledore leaned forward to whisper, "I believe he has been trying to make a potion facsimile that doesn't have the, shall we say, as frequent bathroom requirement as the original." (5)

"When he manages to work out that miracle, tell me so I can write to the church to apply him for the canonization process."

Dumbledore chuckled at that little factoid, "I will. For now, go eat with your House – I can hear your stomach from here."

Harry turned to an excited Neville sitting with his fellow smiling Gryffindor table, "I guess I shall."

The whole of Gryffindor cheered – except for a select few – as Harry sat down with his now fellow housemates, a splotch of green among the sea of red and gold.

* * *

"Well, this makes things easier, Fred."

"Indeed it does, George."

* * *

 _An hour later…_

Harry has never been to a concert so he couldn't really say how a mosh pit was supposed to feel like. However, being carried by a cohort of 1st years felt like riding a wave at the concert – if the wave carried him up a dozen flights of stairs cheering for him.

After making their way to the seventh floor of the Gryffindor Tower, Harry finally saw the infamous portrait of the Fat Lady. Someone ran up to the painting and spoke 'pig snout,' causing the picture to crack open.

 _At least it's better than the Slytherin password._

As Harry was dragged into the common room, he finally got a good look at the Gryffindor House. The common was a circular shape, with windows letting in light from all sides to see the school grounds, like the room was made specifically for relaxing after a long day of studying. It was full of squashy armchairs, tables, and a bulletin board with school notices, ads, lost posters, and other such news. The mantle of the fireplace was adorned with a portrait of a lion, the walls decorated with scarlet tapestries that depicted not only witches and wizards, but also various animals. There were also bookcases located in the room, filled with various books.

As Harry was put down on the floor, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of what appeared to be the Boys Dormitory, "What's all the racket? WHO LET THE SLYTHERIN IN HERE?"

At that little morsel, every Gryffindor who wasn't at breakfast either woke or ran up to see all the commotion.

That's when Fred and George came to Harry's defense.

"Calm down, Wood."

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? You lot let a Slytherin into the Gryffindor Tower! HOW CAN I BE CALM, GEORGE?!"

"OLIVER!" shouted what appeared to be Fred, "think of your happy place. Think of yourself on the Quidditch field winning the cup."

Apparently, that was enough to stabilize the poor man. It was at this point that Percy Weasley – the prefect – got up on the chair to deliver the news. "As of one hour ago, by the degree of Albus Dumbledore and approval of Minerva McGonagall, Harry MacLeod is unofficially part of the Gryffindor House. All points he received as part of Slytherin have been transferred to us, and all future points he earns will go to this house. Officially, he is still part of Slytherin. However, he is to be treated as one of us. Do I make myself clear?"

At this point no one cared – the minute they heard 'points transferred,' even Oliver Wood was existed by the news.

Harry – and by extension Crookshanks – got acquainted with their new surroundings, thanks in part to Neville, who introduced Harry to everyone in the house. Some of the older students still had reservations about Harry, but most of the younger years – except for Ron – approved their new member.

"Hey Neville, what's got Oliver in such a twist?" (6)

"Oh, well… he is the captain of the Quidditch team and all. He has been trying to find a decent Seeker for some time now, but he hasn't been having any luck. I mean, Oliver is a good Keeper and strategist, but the house has been having the worst of luck for the last few years because Slytherin kept winning."

 _Wait a second… I smell a chance to screw over Draco…_

"Hey Neville, are you saying the Gryffindor team could win even without a good Seeker?"

"OF COURSE WE CAN!" interrupted Wood, overhearing the conversation, "It's just those rich, smug bastards always have the newest gear and the best trainers! We could run circles around them if we had the same equipment."

Harry gave Oliver a wolfish smile, "How confident are you regarding that statement?"

Wood gave Harry an inquisitive look, "Pretty confident. Why?"

"Give me an item-by-item list of equipment that each position uses, as well as all the current members playing for each house but Slytherin."

Wood gave Harry a frightened look, "Why?"

"Because I am going to rub salt in the wound so that Slytherin will never forget it."

After Oliver had given Harry the list, Neville got brave enough to ask a question, "Harry, just what exactly are you planning?"

"Well first, I am off to write a letter or two. Then I am going to visit the lake."

* * *

 _Next day, lunch_

It was a curious thing to see the Dining Hall have only three tables completely filled out for brunch on a Sunday. All the teachers were there, and so were most of the students.

Only the Slytherin table was empty; students from that house haven't been seen all day.

"What did you do Harry?" panickly asked Hermione as she rushed over to the Gryffindor table.

Harry looked up from his fruit salad (hey, he was a supernatural creature, but he was also health conscious) to smile, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Look around you – no one has seen or heard from Slytherin since last night. Everyone is on edge because it has something to do with you."

Harry laughed as he put down his fork, "Come now, Hermione. Look, Professor Snape is right there, happy as can be. If anything, he probably punished the house for losing all their points."

It was at this point that the doors to the hall opened, and a horde of wet Slytherin entered the room. At the front was Draco, steam almost coming off him in his rage, finger out, pointing at Harry.

" _YOU! HOW DID YOU DO IT!?_ "

Harry turned to face an approaching Draco, arms crossed, all eyes on him. "Whatever do you mean, Malfoy?"

Draco grabbed Harry's collar – as funny as it was in his attempt to lift him – robes smelling of salt water. "How did you get the lake above the Slytherin Dungeon to flood in? We have been locked in there since the middle of night, trying to get rid of it all? _WE KNOW YOU DID MACLEOD! ADMIT IT!_ "

Harry shoved Draco's hands off him as the older Gryffindor's attempted to hold back the rest of the Slytherin. The teachers watched in interest, only Snape getting up and slowly dusting himself off as he slowly walked toward Harry. Dumbledore was still Dumbledore – he was still smiling and eating his lunch in some sort of Zen-like state.

"Draco, Draco, Draco… Are you accusing me, a 1st year, of somehow modifying a centuries-old spell that permeates this castle, just so that it would lock you in the dungeon as it flooded with the lake water? Tisk, tisk, tisk… There's no shame in admitting you screwed up in your plans when I left Slytherin yesterday."

At this, everyone – except for Snape and Dumbledore – froze in shock. "What… what are you talking about, MacLeod?"

"I am sorry, but wasn't one of your new plans this week to lock me in the Boys Dormitory while I was inside the trunk, and then flood the room so I would die from drowning? Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

There was an audible collective gasp from everyone in the room. But Snape was still slowly approaching Harry.

"You can't prove that! No one can possibly do what you are describing!"

"And yet Draco, I… I mean we of Hogwarts… are all looking at a bunch of very wet Slytherin. Tell me, did you pay them to go dip themselves in the lake to play along with your plan, or did leave the spell charging for too long and decided to cover up your mistake by blaming me?"

All eyes were on Draco at this point, the evidence piling up against him. Draco, in panic, looking back to see the Slytherin glaring at him in anger, "I didn't do it! He is lying!"

"And yet, Mr. Malfoy, here we are," spoke Professor Snape in tranquil fury. "This particular piece of information that Harry stumbled on is what finally convinced me to force my hand and request his transfer to Gryffindor. Now you and your fellow classmen stand in front of me, drenched in water from the lake. Tell me Malfoy, what seems more believable: that Harry MacLeod managed to somehow modify a spell that has lasted for centuries in less then a day or that you, as a son of a known powerful governor with many connections and resources, managed to formulate a plan that would have killed a former housemate due to a vendetta which _you_ instigated?"

"But…but… MacLeod has had it out for me since the beginning! Just look what happened to me in the last few weeks!"

 _Sounds like someone is cracking under pressure,_ smiled Harry.

"Indeed. And yet, for each of your accusations, Harry MacLeod has had credited alibis with multiple witnesses. Yet you Draco, have been blaming Harry for each and everyone one of your screw-ups ever since you arrived."

 _Come now, finish him with the one-two combo._

Snape stood straight, his dark eyes and face of fury glaring directly at the trembling boy. "Clearly, you are now worthy of being you father's son. No Malfoy could possibly be this foolish, this naïve…"

 _Yes, YES,_ _ **FINISH HIM**_ _! (7)  
_

"…this poor of a wizard. Truly, I am surprised you can call yourself a pure-blood wizard. You are no better than a Muggle."

And then he broke: Draco fell to his knees, his childhood psyche, shattered by beating he would never recover from. For Draco Malfoy – for any future Death Eater in training – to be called anything less than a wizard, to be called something as low as a _Muggle…_ It's simply too much for the fragile child ego to handle, especially one as inflated as his.

It was like putting a pin through an overinflated balloon.

It was at this moment – as Harry precisely timed - the owls flooded into the Great Hall for mail. Except instead of little parcels and messages, a mass of owls flew in, each group of six carrying a long, thin package with some boxes attached at the sides. Each group of owls dropped the parcels to certain members of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff – but not for Slytherin. Soon, the members of Slytherin watched as the members of the Quidditch teams all screamed and squealed in excitement at the arrival of their new fitted gear, as well as their new Nimbus Two Thousands and other broom brands. As Harry took up the bowl of bacon he had prepared earlier for the birds, the members of Slytherin watched at the horror as all the Houses received new equipment and brooms.

"My, my, isn't this the sight? It seems like someone heard about the shortage of up to date Quidditch equipment in the school and the lack of budget to replace them," Harry stood tiptoed, looking out the windows for other possible owls. He looked back at the Slytherin House, all staring at him in comprehension, "Maybe the owls with your equipment got lost somewhere."

And then slowly, in all the chaos and excitement, while most of the students – but not the teachers and a select few – watched the owls fly away, came the _coup de grâce_.

Harry leaned in close to Draco, whispering in his ear, with his Voice active at full power. " _Remember this moment Draco – remember it for the rest of your miserable life. This is what it looks like when you cross the wrong person. This is what it looks like when you say the wrong thing at the wrong time. This is what happens, when one simple decision… a choice of words… the misuse of free will… when the flapping of a butterflies wings cascades into a savage storm. Remembers this day Draco Lucius Malfoy… for this is the day you lost. Not in the grand scheme of things, not in some political game, not in a contest of wits or strength, NO… you simply lost a petty squabble that ended up like this. You thought you were the wolf among the sheep, thinking that everyone here was your plaything. But you forgot the most important thing of all – there is always a wolf in sheep's clothing hidden among the herd. Face it Draco, you were never the big fish in this pond." (8)  
_

As tears streamed down Draco's face and insanity set up residence in his mind, Harry delivered the punchline, " _Remember when I told there were ways to kill someone and leave no evidence behind? Technically, that was true – but it's just so hard to convince someone when they have lost their sanity that they had it to begin with. But isn't that just life for you – a big black, awful joke of a world, screwing with you when you least expect it with no justification for the smallest of offenses and decisions? Like it's all just a big game of roulette and chance? I mean, you're not unintelligent! You must see the reality of the situation. It's all a joke! Everything you and your family and others like them did to get to this point... it's all a monstrous, demented gag! You are a dying breed, and Muggles and Half-bloods are the future because of the bastards your ancestors sired and threw out. You lot left them breed and populate the world. Now, when the magic gene reared its ugly head in full force, you bigots are too stuck in your aways to go with the new status-quo. So why not accept it? Why not go down with the ship or float with the rats? Why can't you see the funny side?_ _ **Why… aren't… you… laughing?" (8)  
**_

With that last line, the child known as Draco Malfoy was never more.

As Harry got up, Draco chuckled.

As Harry went to congratulate Wood on his new equipment, Draco snickered.

As everyone realized that it was Harry who gave them their new supplies, Draco laughed.

As teachers watched in silence while the students celebrated, Draco went hysterical.

As Snape watched in an unemotional amusement and considering the blow dealt to Lucius, Draco was carried away.

As Slytherin watched in horror... in fear, finally realizing that Harry MacLeod was the most Slytherin of them all, while the other Houses celebrated in ignorance. They watched at a quiet Harry, smiling his wolfish smile, thinking to himself as he shook Neville's hand in the merriment, _that St. Mungo's would have a new admission soon enough._

* * *

"We are out of our league here, George."

"I think we are, Fred."

"Should we still invite him in?"

"I think that if this is any indication, it would be better if we were asked to join _him._ "

"You can't be serious."

"George, as far as we are concerned, we are staying as far away from Harry as possible."

"Come on Fred, he can't be that bad."

"Oh no George, I am not saying Harry MacLeod is a bad person; heck, he is the best that happened to Hogwarts in who knows how long!... No, he is a _vengeful person_. He doesn't do tricks – he does retribution."

* * *

As the festivities died down and the teachers attempted to calm the students in all their excitement, Harry attempted to sneak away from the hall.

He wasn't two steps past the corner when he heard, "How did you know?"

Harry turned to see Professor Snape watching him.

"How did you know I would play along?"

"I didn't – I would have just gone with my backup plan if you decided not to."

"But how did you know that I would read the note you left for me in my office?"

"The same way I know that you have been trying to figure me out since that failed attempt to read my mind of the first day of class – I just do."

Snape didn't do anything to show his surprise.

Harry held up his hand, "Don't take it the wrong way, Professor – unlike you, I will never have the ability to read minds. No, I go about it the long and tedious way: I study people."

"And that is how you knew that I would throw Malfoy – how do Muggles say it? – 'under the bus'?"

Harry shrugged – it was becoming a bad habit at this point - "Because I know that you are Dumbledore's spy in the Death Eaters."

Snape's face didn't even twitch or spasm.

"Don't act like you don't know what I am talking about. I read the Ministry reports and heard the rumors; I know how to read between the lines. You _were_ a Death Eater, but you turned your back on Voldemort – I don't know why, but you did. You joined the Order of the Phoenix and to this day, you been working with Dumbledore to hinder them at every turn. And now, I have given you a pass."

"A pass?"

"Yes, a pass. I know you have to grovel yourself to Lucius Malfoy so that he will tell you things you need to hear. I know that you think you are better than him, just like I know you would do anything for an opportunity to get back at him. It's why you set up such high standards in Potions: granted, it weeds out too many people to give Aurors a decent number of recruits, but on the flipside, almost no Slytherin has managed to make it through to your N.E.W.T level course despite the best tutoring money can buy for those spoiled bastards (9), blocking a lot of high ranking Ministry positions out their grubby hands – positions in which no amount of bribery can help. It's why I planned it out like this. I knew about Draco's plan to flood the room, so I took advantage of the situation. I didn't expect Draco to get injured so badly with the broom nor did I expect to be transferred to Gryffindor – thanks by the way, that was nice of you. I did, however, plan the delivery of the supplies as well as the flooding of all of Slytherin. And yet, if Lucius cries fowl, you can play the innocent. I know you were away all of last night on a special assignment and that you came back just in time for lunch. I know that you had a choice to either support Draco's accusations of defending me – you choose wisely. Now, with all the stuff that had occurred to Draco before and with the justification of you having to maintain your ruse to fool others, the worst Lucius can do is leave you out of the loop for a while. He can't kill you nor dismiss you because you're his closest agent to Dumbledore's workings. If anything, he will ask you to find a way to kill me, which you won't be able to do anymore since I am now part of Gryffindor. He will want to argue otherwise, but he won't because he ignored his son's earlier please for assistance in getting rid of me. Instead, he will wallow in self-pity and redouble his efforts in making up for the mistakes of his son. If anything, he will be more distracted from his efforts in bringing about Voldemort's ideology or securing his base of power. Now is the best chance for you, Snape, to get information out of him you couldn't before with your Legilimency while his defenses are at their weakest."

As Harry spoke, Snape's faced faltered more and more, until it eventually cracked at the realization of what kind of game Harry was playing. "What are you, Harry MacLeod?"

Harry looked down at his feet in shame before starring the man straight in the eyes, "I am a man, sir. I am not an evil man, but I am also not a good one either. Good men don't need rules, not like me. Today was not the day to find out why I have so many."

Snape wasn't a foolish man, and even he could understand the context behind those words. "How far ahead did you plan all this out?"

"I only planned this a day ago, if you can believe. I wanted to make this last as long as possible, but Dumbledore gave me an out. He saw where I was heading and thought so many moves ahead. I may be a Chessmaster of some level, but Dumbledore is levels above me, and that is saying something."

Harry finally relaxed as he continued, "You know, the irony is that I wasn't going to go that far with Draco. I was just planning to scare him until he got furious, which he did – just sooner than I thought. Anger is always the shortest distance to a mistake (10), and his was allowing me to overhear his plans in drowning me. I still don't know he managed to figure out the spell work in the dungeon, but I don't have to look far to see the yellow brick road."

Harry sighed, looking at Snape not in enjoyment, but in pity. "You know what the worst part of winning this battle is?"

"What?"

"That sometimes, winning is no fun at all. I mean, look at the whole fiasco: I broke a man because he deserved it and I shattered a House as collateral damage just to make a point. Now, Draco is in pieces, somewhere in the dark with a candle light solving the puzzle that is him. The problems here is that not everyone comes back out of the dark – not even me."

And with that, Harry slivered away, Professor Snape stuck in place, gauging and weighing the meaning behind the student's words.

As Snape turned away to return to the dungeon and assess the damage, he couldn't help but whisper to himself, "The best way to not get your heart broken, is pretending you don't have one."

Snape looked back down the hall, "You are too young for this game, MacLeod. Much too young."

Finally, alone, Harry took out a package that was delivered by a small, dark owl, that amidst all the confusion he managed to sneak away unnoticed. Harry opened it to see piles upon piles of paperwork. Damn magical packages – always bigger on the inside. A top of it all laid a letter, one that Harry opened first before anything else.

 _Salutations Mr. Potter,_

 _It's good to hear from you again. We have managed to recuperate the losses we made with the information you provided regarding your father's machinations. Truly, he is powerful man to have done the things you have described. As per our request, inside this package, you will find all the personal and financial information regarding one Lucius Malfoy son of Abraxas Malfoy, husband of Narcissa Black and the father of Draco Malfoy. Best endeavors in your quest to destroy your enemies. We will speak again soon._

 _Griphook_

 _P.S. All is ready regarding your plans for Sirius Black. You all but have to give the time and date to set your plans in motion._

 _P.S.S. The Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy may have finally found a way to legally gain access to your vaults. I am afraid your existence will not be hidden for much longer._

Harry groaned at the last part of the message. He quickly sealed the package away for another day, for he has done enough to indulge the darker aspects of his being for a long time.

 _If this is the game you want to play Lucius, then let's play. Benko Gambit engaged (11). You move, Malfoy. I plan to play the long game this time._

* * *

 **(1) This always bothered me. Draco knows what helicopters are but knowing his family, there's no way he would be even allowed to know anything** Muggle related **. So… what gives? Unless Lucius is involved in the drug trade and needs to know about Muggle forms of transportation, then Draco shouldn't. Wait a minute…**

 **(2) Season 6, Episode 4, "Weekend at Bobby's"**

 **(3) Neville has more confidence =** More sure **of himself = Less forgetful**

 **(4) The movie gave her hawk-eyes and so did the books. In any case, I seriously think that there are** many **more unregistered Animagus besides the Marauders but that is a personal opinion. Still… it's too good of an ability not to have and keep hidden.**

 **(5) I forgot about the Pepper-Up Potion when I wrote this, but then I realized that it's canonically used to relieve and/or cure cold symptoms. The version used to wake people up was done in fanfictions.**

 **(6) This one was actually subtle so I excused people missing it. But not that many people have ever read Charles Dicken but "Oliver Twist" was still a decent read.**

 **(7) Mortal Kombat for the win.**

 **(8) Harry's coup de grâce was basically a combination of the main speeches from 'Batman: The Dark Knight Returns' and 'Batman: The Killing Joke' (more from the later** then **former). I honestly thought the 'Why aren't you laughing?'** line **would give it away.**

 **(9) In my story, Snape is a 'good' guy, so him appeasing the children of Death Eaters but not passing them through his more advanced class is the only way he can get back at them. To be fair, he plays a very dangerous game, so for** appearances **sake, he has to play the villain to the students and always maintain a mask.**

 **(10) "Anger is always the shortest distance to a mistake." - Madame Vastra from Doctor Who**

 **(11) My Harry will have a habit of making chess references.**


	19. The Hearing

**Chapter 19: The Hearing**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Sorry for the delay but I had some stuff to do - plus I had a mild case of writer's block. Sorry!**

 **This chapter may piss off some people since I took some liberties regarding Wizard World law. However, this is fanfiction, and while I do stick as close as possible to the story, JKR did leave a lot of her world rather open to interpretation and manipulation.**

 **I would also like to reiterate something I mentioned before.**

 **First and foremost, I need to thank MusicDefinesUsAll, for both her permission and the idea to continue the story. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be writing this message right now.**

 **Secondly, I need to thank the likes of Joe Lawyer, Theayonder, UmbraVenator, Scarlet Dewdrops, AliceCullen3, lisafrancis.96780, Persistent Dreamer, reader-reader2, Gime'SS, Kaorilamb, and SamandHarrylover for their consistent constructive reviews as to how I should progress my work. Thank you for your dedication.**

 **Thirdly, I need to thank all of my followers and those who favorited this work but who haven't written reviews yet stuck with me nonetheless.**

 **Finally, I need to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for truly enjoying what I have written so far. I am jubilant from your continued allegiance.**

 **If I could ask for anything from you all without seeming too greedy is for someone to start a page for this piece on _TvTropes_ at some point in the future.**

 _ **For this chapter, I need to thank writer Amarylle for letting me use sections of his story - "Harry Flitwick" - in my work. A lot of it is in fact paraphrased, but I asked for permission, and the writer is aware that I am using the writing. Thankfully, the writer was flattered to be asked so I no feelings were hurt.**_

* * *

 _October 1st, 2011_

The waxing crescent of the moon barely provided any illumination on this dark Saturday night.

The staff of Hogwarts has gathered yet again for their monthly assessment of events. The usual process involved discussing any occurrences, events of note, topics of discussion. Snacks and tea were passed around, the mood typically jovial and light hearted.

This was not one of those days.

An aura of melancholy seemed to hand above the heads of the teachers, no so more than for Dumbledore himself.

"Has there been any change with the boy, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I wish I could give you some good news at this time, but there has been no change in Mr. Malfoy's condition in the last few day. I needed to use a double dose of calming potion just to put the child to sleep so that I could restrain him."

"Has it degraded to that point?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, "I am afraid so. He seems to be in an actual delusional state, separated from reality, as it were. It would normally be manageable but… his laughing…"

Even Dumbledore couldn't hide his wince, "Yes – I can hear even from my office… Did MacLeod do this?"

"I am afraid not Headmaster," spoke Snape, "Professor McGonagall and I examined the boy for any source of magic or potion tampering. The child… simply broke."

Dumbledore nodded, "We will go into further details about this later. Any word from his father?"

"I just send an owl to Lucius. We should be hearing back from him shortly."

"Thank you, McGonagall. Anything else we should be aware of."

"I informed Lucius that he should consider admitting Draco to St. Mungo's… as well as remove Draco from Hogwarts for his own safety."

All the teachers looked at Professor McGonagall in shock, with Dumbledore barely raising an eyebrow. "I hope you didn't phrase it like, McGongall – Malfoy already has a disdain for how I run this school. This would just be adding wood the fire."

Professor McGongall raised her hand, "I didn't write it as bluntly as that. I did, however, postulate to the man that his son could have succumbed to pressure and paranoia, which led to his temporary insanity. With the healers at St. Mungo's and some time at home, Draco should recover with some time."

" **Aren't you avoiding the bigger issue here? It's not as if we didn't see what happened before the child started laughing in the Great Hall."**

"Indeed, Hagrid… We all saw MacLeod approach Draco when he was on the floor. But he did nothing more than whisper to the child."

"Maybe that is all that the boy needed." scoffed Professor Sprout.

Everyone turned in her general direction, "Oh, come now, I can't be the only one thinking it. If someone like me considered it, then Lucius will definitely think it."

Dumbledore nodded, "It all comes back to MacLeod in the end. Tell me, what has transpired to the child since the incident?"

Professor McGonagall coughed for attention, "I've observed him as carefully as I could for the last week during his transition to Gryffindor, and I can honestly say that the child is viewed as a great hero by the house."

"Same." Replied Flitwick and Sprout.

"He appears to be feared by the Slytherin. These last few days have been akin to damage-control by my students. All week, they have been doing nothing by writing back and forth with their parents regarding what transpired, debating about their next move."

"How has Lucius not heard of it yet?"

"From what I heard, Headmaster, Lucius was busy in building his argument to acquire the Potter Vaults. In any case, outside of the House, Slytherins avoid Harry MacLeod altogether. He has become their personal Boogeyman."

Flitwick looked at the potions professor, "A what now?"

"Forgive me for that; a boogeyman - in many Muggle cultures – is a monster used by adults to frighten children into good behavior. You could say that it is their interpretation of a Boggart."

The diminutive charm's professor nodded in understanding, "Seems appropriate: in the last week, the Slytherin have done nothing to raise my suspicions that they were planning something. They haven't pestered, bullied, or raise any sort of scuffle."

Snape nodded, "They are most likely attempting to earn back the points they lost when Harry transferred to Gryffindor. Who knew the child gathered so many points in such a short amount of time?"

"It is better to say that he never lost any points from the amount he earned." Corrected Dumbledore, "How is he seen by the other Houses?"

"As I already mentioned, he is beloved by the Gryffindor House. The same can most likely be said for Ravenclaw but less so for Hufflepuff," McGongall noted the nodding of Flitwick and Sprout.

"Why less from Hufflepuff?"

"Hermione Granger is in Ravenclaw, and she has been defending Harry's for some time now. Unfortunately, Harry doesn't have a similar advocate in Hufflepuff, and as such, they have shown less favoritism for the child."

"Hermione is defending McLeod? With her intellectual competitiveness, you would think she would do everything in her power…"

"She may feel threatened by MacLeod's intelligence, but it is not as if he is cheating his way to the top. The child is either a night-owl or has perpetual insomnia, but he is always seen by the older students to be reading in front of the fireplace at night. Plus, he is her friend, so she sees him as friendly competition rather than an enemy."

"What about the Quidditch Teams?" inquired Madame Hooch.

Professor McGongall actually laughed at that, "If Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are anything like Gryffindor, they worship the ground he walks on. They have taken a personal responsibility as to act as boy's bodyguards against anything Slytherin may actually do – which he most likely won't even need."

"They may not be on the same level of devotion, but my Ravenclaws have something similar worked out."

"Same for my Hufflepuffs."

Professor Flitwick was next to speak, "Speaking of MacLeod, I finally saw his wand."

This caught Professor McGonagall's attention, "Really? It has been a month, and I still haven't caught sight of it – he always finishes his work before I get a chance to see it. He is oddly secretive about it."

"To be fair, the child isn't exactly an open book, but I could understand his trepidation regarding his wand – it is a beautiful piece of wand work."

Dumbledore leaned onto the table, "Do tell, Flitwick."

"I haven't dueled in many years Albus, but I still stay up to date on current wand designs and their powers. Whatever Ollivander gave him, it wasn't something he attempted to duplicate."

Now Snape's curiosity peaked, "You mean to say that MacLeod has a one of a kind wand?"

"Certainly a possibility. In my previous classes, Harry got by since they were mostly notes, lectures, and individual practice. But today, I made Harry volunteer to demonstrate the _Lumos_ charm to the class. He wasn't pleased with being picked out when it wasn't in his best interest or by choice."

Hagrid nodded, " **Seems to me like he has some issues with losing control – real or otherwise. I can relate, but that's because of my strength. Why would a child have such inclinations?"**

"Could be something to do with his past – child still won't take off his gloves. In any case, he didn't argue or try to get out of it, but his wand was something else. He actually took it out of a personalized case from within his robes."

Professor McGongall inquired, "Was there anything inscribed on it?"

"Now that you mention it, there was – the word 'Tiamat.' Why?"

"MacLeod mentioned once that he named his wand."

"You have no idea, McGongall," spoke Snape out of term, "It seems like Hagrid's claim that MacLeod has control problems may not be so far off."

"How so?"

"Because Minerva," sighed Dumbledore, "Tiamat the name of one of the oldest documented gods in written history. She is the dragon goddess of Mesopotamia, the monsters embodiment of primordial chaos and creation."

Dumbledore looked toward Madam Pomfrey, "Can I only assume that the children admitted a few days ago were blinded by Harry's demonstration?"

"They suffered no significant nor long term damage from the lights… they didn't enjoy wearing the eyepatches, though."

"Can't blame them for that – I didn't expect him to be so strong. He did apologize afterward and requested that he demonstrated his spells in private until he got better control over his magic." Flitwick looked toward McGongall, "Although, that could simply be a charms problem. He shouldn't have any difficulty in transfiguration, considering the debate I heard him have with Hermione."

"What debate?" inquired Dumbledore.

"It seems Harry has been teaching Hermione different interpretations of magic. Most of it consists of arguing the drawback of various magic methodologies and styles, but he did stumble on a topic that even I never considered."

"One moment, Flitwick," interrupted Snape, "Where have these 'discussions' taken place?"

"Why, in the Ravenclaw House, of course."

Dumbledore looked up in surprise, "He knows how to enter the Ravenclaw House?"

The diminutive professor shrugged, "It's not like our password is that difficult – it's just a new logic problem or riddle every day. You can't blame the students for not being smart enough to answer them. In any case, he has been doing this for some time now. Apparently, it was the norm in the house which is why no one was really disturbed when I brought it up with the prefects."

Snape wouldn't let this go, "Isn't there a rule against such fraternization?"

"The rule is only against having other house members after lights-out. There is no rule against visiting other Houses before then or even exchanging the location and method of entry for the House with others. The assumption that students couldn't is just something that started to be considered the norm a few decades back – probably around World War II if I recall. In any case…" continued Flitwick while Snape tried to comprehend what he heard, "It seems Harry found an odd anomaly in our magic… something to do with spells of absolutes…" (1)

"Ah," nodded Dumbledore in understanding, "That is a rather ignored topic, one not usually inquired about. I assume he used the _Alohomora_ spell as his argument, am I right?"

Flitwick looked at the Headmaster in awe, "How did you know?"

"He most likely read ahead in the syllabus, and it is one of such charms. I can assume he argued how some spells only work if one puts in enough magic to overpower the opposing spell while charging spells are like a faucet in a sink – as in, they require precise control to regulate the power behind the spell."

"That… is almost word for word what Harry spend half an hour drilling into Hermione. She couldn't understand it no matter how much Harry explained it to her – she just assumed spells fail because they are performed improperly."

"It is a factor, but enough force can overcome even that. However, your earlier statement is correct – MacLeod will definitely have issues with certain spells, more so in Charms then Transfiguration, but both of you keep our eyes on him for the time being."

Both teachers nodded as Snape finally regained his focus. While doing so, Professor Sinistra raised her hand, "Headmaster, while on MacLeod… I too have an issue to bring up."

"Oh?"

"It's nothing bad! It's just… It seems like MacLeod has nothing to gain from my class."

" **Is the boy really that knowledgeable regarding Astronomy?"** asked Hagrid.

"He has been serving as my aid for the last month, and based on what I could gather, he is clearly well versed on the topic. I wanted to inquire if there was some way to put him in a more advanced class or at least give him something else to do."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding, "I see… have you considered letting him grade his classmate's assignments?"

"Wouldn't that be favoritism or against the rules on some level?"

"I see your point. I would like for you to spend the month testing the boy to see how extensive his knowledge is. Depending on the level, I may consider placing him in a more advanced class if he allows it."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked around the table, "No Quirrell today?"

"He seems to be under the weather, Headmaster," spoke Snape, "He appears to be doing a decent job with his students, but from what I heard, there is no love lost between him and Harry. Something about him snickering every time Quirrell mentions some sort of creature. In any case, the child is still maintaining an 'Outstanding' in the class."

"Disrespect to a teacher? Doesn't sound like MacLeod."

"No so much as disrespect as more like… he disagrees with what the teacher teaches. That, and MacLeod seems to dislike him for on reason or another then I haven't been able to determine. I hope that answers your question, McGonagall."

Dumbledore nodded, "Can I only assume that the rest of you have something similar to say about the boy?"

After everyone – except Filch – nodded, Dumbledore continued, "All right, let us all keep an eye on him to see if there is something he has been hiding from us. In any case, since we have covered more than what I expected, I believe it is time to wish you all good night."

The staff agreed and began to leave the room when Dumbledore spoke up again, "Professor Snape… Professor McGonagall… a moment?"

As everyone left, only the three teachers still remained.

"Is something wrong, Albus?"

"I am afraid so Minerva… Snape, if you would?"

The potion masters nodded, "It seems the only reason Lucius hasn't bothered to inquire about his son _DESPITE_ the fact that he was already aware of his condition is because he finally figured out how to gain hold of Potter's fortune."

Minerva gasped, "How long do we have?"

"No time at all, I am afraid. I am to attend the hearing tomorrow where Lucius will present his case to Gringotts in front of Wizengamot. If he succeeds… he will control the Potter fortune."

Snape did the calculations, "He will control almost half of the money in all of Britain… he will **literally** be one of the most wealthy individuals in the world."

"Is there anything we can do, Albus?"

"I will do my best to try to convince him otherwise – I may have to give up some powers, but it will be necessary. With all of Lucius friends in the Ministry and the governors, we all know how it will turn out."

"I thought this was a Goblin Nation issue. Why is the Ministry even involved?"

"I am sorry to say, Severus, that Lucius managed to push a bill and reform or two through over the last few years that even the goblins couldn't get around."

Everyone in the room hanged their head in despair. Minerva was the first to speak, "We can only hope for a miracle to change such an outcome."

Dumbledore sighed, "Let us not dwell on such a topic – what will be is what will be." Dumbledore got out of his chair and stared out at the clouds and the moon. "Now… what of your observations for Longbottom?"

"Not good, I am afraid Albus," spoke Minerva. "The child already told me that he plans to get a personal wand during the Winter Break, but for now… he seems to show great difficulty in most classes except Herbology and Potions. One he has an actual gift in and in the other because he has MacLeod's assistance."

Snape raised his hand to correct Professor McGonagall, "I wouldn't go so far as to say his success in Potions is entirely based on his friendship with MacLeod – potions is an extension of Herbology because one needs to understand the usage of all the materials that go into them. Harry only provides… emotional support."

"Still, the child is not really what I would hope for from such an influential family. Are you sure that Neville has to be the Chosen One?"

"We have no choice, Minerva. Without Potter, all we have is Longbottom. He is still young but give it time – he will eventually grow into his future role. What about his connections? Has he started developing any friendship with his fellow Gryffindors?"

Minerva shook her head, "Unless you count MacLeod as a Gryffindor. His only friends are Harry and Hermione – her through association with MacLeod. He knows all the other heirs, but is that is more from past meetings and house associations and alliances. His friends, however, started studying together, and there has been some improvement in his coursework from that. He is on friendly terms with his fellow housemates, but he isn't close with any of them. The child is simply too shy."

A transient expression of annoyance appeared on Dumbledore's face – one that Minerva and Severus missed – before he continued, "We may have to… facilitate his socialization. As a future leader, we must ensure that the child grows up to be confident and strong. We may also have to find a way for him to become more independent in his pursuit of improving himself."

"What do you suggest, Albus?"

"I would recommend putting him on the Quidditch team…"

"Absolutely not Albus! The boy is terrified of flying, and he is both too large and too young to be a Seeker."

"I don't suggest _now_. In the future, we may need to get him on the team. For now, we have to find a way to make him break out of his rut; I will figure something. You can go Minerva – I have something to discuss with Severus on some… private matters."

Minerva nodded in understanding before she left the room.

Severus looked at the Headmaster understanding where the conversation was going, "I scanned Draco's mind – there is nothing there to indicate…"

"Nothing you can detect or nothing at all?"

Severus paused, considering his exact words carefully.

"You know something don't you, Severus? Something you kept quiet about the incident… something you realized about MacLeod that you haven't told anyone."

"It nothing of note, Albus. The child admitted that he was aware of my attempts at using Legilimency on him on the first day of class."

"Truly?" replied Abus in shock, "Anything else?"

"He also revealed – circumvented, if the term applies – that he has absolutely no talent or even ability in Legilimency or Occlumency."

"Then how…"

"I can only assume that it has something to do with his earrings. That or he is using something else to guard his mind."

Dumbledore shook his head in understanding, "Anything else?"

Severus paused, thinking. "No. We had a talk about what occurred, but he revealed nothing of note besides what I already mentioned."

Dumbledore turned back to the window again, "How close is Neville to this Hermione child?"

"Nothing I can speak in confidence about. They never met in each other's Houses. They only started meeting now that MacLeod is in Gryffindor. Before, it was only MacLeod that interacted with them separately. Now… it's too soon to say."

"I understand. You may leave, Severus. I have to consider the new information you provided me."

As Severus was about to leave he turned back to the Headmaster, "Albus… are you sure now is the time to start changing Neville?"

"What do you suggest? That I leave him be as he is? The child was considered a squib until a few months ago. Despite my best efforts, it took his uncle dropping hi out the window for his magic to finally show itself. He has been systematically broken by his relatives and grandmother. We have no choice but to start changing him early on. If we knew that he was the child of prophecy early on, I might have done something sooner. There is only so much I could have repaired during my visits to the family. No, while it is distasteful, I believe it is for the greater good that we push Neville to change himself for the better."

"Into what – a weapon? This is a child we are talking about here Albus. A child who is still eleven. Let MacLeod do your work for you – he has been a beneficial influence on the boy. I doubt that Hermione Granger – despite being Muggle-born and raised – can have any detrimental effect on him."

Dumbledore considered what Severus spoke, weighing the facts, "I see… You present a valid argument. However, MacLeod is an unknown; he is hiding something from us, and he can't be trusted in the grand scheme of things."

"Can we bring him into the fold?"

"He is too young, and we know too little. Maybe when we learn more…"

Severus nodded, " I understand Albus. Now, I bid you ado."

Albus nodded in turn, "Good night, Severus. I will see on Monday after the hearing."

Severus exited the room, finally giving Dumbledore time alone with his thoughts.

 _The Wizarding World has already lost one family to attrition, we can not lose another. I can't risk a Longbottom falling for a Muggle-born witch. I just can't. It goes against everything I stand for, but I can't take that chance…_

* * *

 _October 2nd, 2011_

"…As such, based on the current bylaws and new regulations established by the Ministry, since Harry Potter's existence has not been verified nor has he been spotted in the last five years…"

Dumbledore could only stare in disdain as Lucius presented his case as the speaker of Wizengamot. He was surrounded by the likes of Brunhilde Stokke, Bartemius Crouch, and Cornelius Fudge. Amelia Bones had the same look of derision that Albus had, but she hid it just as skillfully as he did. In fact, no one was particularly pleased with the way the hearing as progressing. Only Dolores Umbridge seemed to have been enjoying the situation before her: a goblin on trial.

Technically, it was Gringotts on trial by the court of the Ministry, but they were represented by a single goblin. Dumbledore felt personally responsible for the looks his friend was getting, but unfortunately, Griphook was currently the one in charge of the Potter Vaults – which bothered him since James once told him it was someone named Ripclaw. In any case, a single goblin looking up at all the fifty members of Wizengamot while Lucius Malfoy presented his argument was not something people wanted to see – or at least not something one would publicly admit.

"…In closing, since the legitimacy of the Goblin Nations blood claim can't be verified by the Ministry and since Harry Potter well-being has yet to be determined, the Ministry can declare the child legally dead until evidence arises to otherwise change it. Since the child will be legally dead, the Potter Vaults will fall into the hands of the closest living _eligible_ and _accessible_ relatives until the time the child existence is confirmed."

Dumbledore hated to admit it, but Lucius has crafted his argument well. With all the effort he put in for the last five years, he was bound to eventually succeed. Even if Harry Potter does return to Great Britain in the future, it will give Lucius more than enough time to abuse the fortune or figure out the way to keep it in his greedy hands.

What worried the aged wizard is that Griphook didn't seem to be bothered by any of this.

"Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy, but may I see the claim you have written?"

Luscious rolled up the parchment before levitating it to the goblin. Griphook started to read through it again, nodding and agreeing at certain points. This went on for some minutes - since it was a rather long parchment - before Griphook looked up, "This is a very well crafted and researched piece of legal work, Mr. Malfoy."

"From a goblin, that is high praise."

"Indeed. Before we proceed further, I must ask you one last time: Lucius Malfoy, Head of the House of Malfoy, are you certain that you wish to move forward with the claiming of the Potter Vaults, including but not limited to all the obligations and fallout from doing so?"

"Stop holding up the proceedings, goblin!" shouted Umbridge, "Mr. Lucius Malfoy of the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy has presented his claim, meaning that Gringotts must transfer all of the holdings of the Potter House."

Griphook ignored the screaming fat lady and turned back to Lucius, "I need to hear Mr. Malfoy say it out loud before we proceed. Now, I ask again…"

"Yes, yes," waved Lucius, "Let us proceed with the acquisition of the vaults into the Malfoy House."

Griphook sighed, "Very well. We assumed this day would occur much later in the future, but it seems like we have no choice…"

Dumbledore – and the rest of Wizengamot – watched in shock as Griphook tour the parchment in half.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" screamed Fudge, "Mr. Malfoy petition was airtight and legally binding!"

"That it was, Minister Fudge. It was carefully worded, with absolutely no loopholes or legal oversights. Honestly, this piece could even be studied by my people as a prime example of a legal contract. Under normal circumstances, we at Gringotts would already be transferring all the holdings of the Potter Vaults. Unfortunately, I am afraid that this last attempt has left me no choice but to engage the failsafe left behind."

"Left behind? Left behind by who? No one has touched those vaults in years!" screamed Umbridge.

 _No, it couldn't be…_ thought Dumbledore. A smile started to show on his face, one that the people around him couldn't ignore.

"Why, by Harry Potter of course."

There was silence in the hall. "What?"

"Did you not know? Harry Potter laid claim to his vaults a few months ago – in the main branch in Diagon Alley of all place."

The Minister got up in panic, "Wha… Why weren't we informed?"

"Mr. Potter requested that his existence remains a secret – unless, of course, if someone asked us directly or we were left no choice but to admit it." Griphook switched from Fudge to Lucius, "Since Mr. Malfoy never inquired, we never told him that Mr. Potter has returned to England."

A sheer wave of panic appeared on Lucius's face, while most around him – short of Umbridge and a few others - couldn't help but smile at the turnaround that occurred.

"As such, since Harry Potter's existence has now been revealed, I am afraid to say, Mr. Malfoy, that the failsafe he left behind has been activated. One that unfortunately, will have severe ramifications for you, Mr. Malfoy."

 _What is Griphook talking about?_ thought Dumbledore. Nothing came to the aged wizard's mind that could damage Lucius in any way.

Griphook opened up his briefcase and began to take a few parchments as he jokingly looked at Amelia Bones, "Mr. Potter jokingly referred to this failsafe as Operation 'Ver Purgatio' (2) from something he saw in a Muggle television show."

Dumbeldore quickly translated the Latin phrase, ' _Spring Cleaning'? What does that mean?_

Fudge got up, pushing Lucius off the podium, "Mr. Griphook, I must contest, is Gringotts actively threatening a member of the Ministry? Or even the Ministry as a whole?"

Griphook finished setting up the parchments, "Oh no, nothing of the sort. All I am doing is carrying out the instructions left behind by Mr. Potter – or rather, the modified instructions he send me a week ago."

"Pardon?"

"I didn't inquire, but apparently something happened a week ago that made Mr. Potter modify his plans. Now," Griphook dusted himself off and put on a pair of spectacles, "to the first item on the agenda."

Griphook took out an aged parchment, "Normally, we would have had to set up on an official appointment with all necessary parties, but seeing as how we are in the center of Ministry with all of the Wizengamot present, I feel confident that all the relevant individuals will hear of this eventually."

Fudge started to nervously twitch, trying to regain his composure, "Hear what out?"

"Why, the reading of the Potter Will."

A collective gasp was heard through the room. Even Dumbledore was not immune to. It.

 _No, he wouldn't dare… Not even I know what's in that will! This could ruin everything!_ Under normal circumstances, the will would have been read as soon as possible after the deaths of James and Lily. Unfortunately, due to the interference of _particular_ parties and despite Dumbledore's best efforts to reclaim it after Harry's disappearance, the will was locked away in the vault without it ever being read – until now.

"Now, if no one plans to argue…"

Umbridge got up, "Hold on! How can we even trust that this parchment is, in fact, the Potter Will?!"

"Because it has been signed in blood and magic – I sincerely doubt that both could be faked after so many years."

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO SO IN ANY CASE! No one gave you permission."

Griphook looked up at the toad of a woman in annoyance, "On the contrary, I was given the right by the previous speaker. I did tell Mr. Malfoy that he would have to deal with the fallout of carrying out his appeal."

Umbridge sat down in anger but defeat, knowing that she was outmaneuvered.

"Now, if no has any more complaints, I will begin the reading."

Every wizard in a panic, for no one knew the ramifications that could occur from this reading. The Potter House was one the wealthiest families in all of Britain and its money has been sealed away for years now. Any removal or addition of it from the wizard economy could have severe ramifications.

Griphook made one last cough, before starting and holding up the parchment.

" **I, James Charles Potter, and I, Lilien Eleanor Potter, being of sound memory and mind, and not acting under duress or undue influence, fully understanding the nature and extent of all our property and of this disposition thereof, do hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be our Last Will and Testament, and do hereby revoke any and all other wills and codicils heretofore made by us."** He read out loud and looked up at his able audience.

" **First things first. We direct that the expenses of our funeral, and burial, be paid as soon after our death as may be reasonably convenient, and we hereby authorize our personal representative and solicitor Ted Tonks, hereinafter appointed, to settle and discharge, in his absolute discretion, any claims made against our estate**."

Griphook looked up, "Since they have already been buried a long time ago by one Albus Dumbledore, this particular section of the will is null and void. Let it be known, however, that Ted Tonks has been mentioned and his responsibility has been assigned."

" **We further direct that our personal representative shall pay out of our estate any and all estate and inheritance taxes payable by reason of our death in respect of all items included. We ask the Head of our Accounts to set aside a vault with enough galleons from our estate to pay these fees, and we ask the key be located with Ted Tonks**."

Griphook took out a key from his pocket, "This key will be given to Ted Tonks at a later point today to carry out his mentioned duties."

" **Secondly, the entirety of the property owned by us at our death, real and personal, and wherever we situate, we devise and bequeath to the following individuals, as divided by our pre-determined design.** "

Griphook looked up, "Due to events that have transpired since the writing of this will, certain parts will be removed for convenience since Mr. Potter said and I quote, 'the people mentioned here that are dead were the last of their Houses or without living kin. There is no need to bring up their memories and heartache by mentioning their sections." Since there are SEVERAL individuals here who have passed on and their deaths have been confirmed by Gringotts, the items promised to them have been removed. However, to the people still alive, though…"

" **To Remus Lupin, one of our most treasured friends, we leave one hundred and fifty thousand galleons, and our cottage in Ayr, Scotland. Teach our Harry to be the voice of reason, and please be there to calm down Sirius, when he undoubtedly gets into way too much trouble. May you find the strength you seek, our friend. We love you, and we will always accept you. May you find that special witch, who shall make your heart grow wing** s."

" **To Alice and Frank Longbottom, our dear friends, we leave our family home located in Galway, near the beautiful Irish Galway Bay, and twenty-five thousand galleons to add to the Trust of our godson, Neville. May you live long and happy lives together, and see your son grow up into a wonderful young man."**

"Since the Longbottoms are currently incarcerated in St. Mungo's and will be unable to accept this in person, Augusta Longbottom will accept the house and galleons on their behalf."

The aged matriarch of the Longbottom House nodded in understanding, doing her best to not cry at the mention of her son.

" **To our most unique friend, Pandora Lovegood, we leave a box of rare Potion Ingredients, and a copy of the Potter Family's Potion Grimoire that will serve our wonderful Potion Mistress, beautifully. The original of the book shall stay with our son. We also grant Pandora access to our Herb Farm up in the Welsh mountains to make use of it, and maintain it to her heart's content. You are a wonderful person, Pandora, and we just know that your daughter is going to be twice blessed.** "

Griphook looked up, "There is an addition of a special chest with an assortment of ingredients in unbreakable glass phials."

" **To Andromeda and Ted Tonks, we leave our vacation home in Blackpool, in England, situated by the sea. Please enjoy your life, and don't be a stranger to our Harry."**

" **To Amelia Bones, we leave ten thousand galleons to aid her personal dreams. We know you are a professional, Amy, but please don't let that stop you from living your life and shooting for the stars. Make sure Susan and Harry grow up as brother and sister, and not lonely children who yearn for company."** He read and looked at the shocked, gobsmacked face of the Head of the Auror force.

"Madam Bones, the next section is something you should pay careful attention to. With your current position, it is something of significant importance." He said mysteriously, and the witch blinked and nodded.

" **The inheritance to Peter Pettigrew has conditions. In the case we die of natural causes, we leave Peter one hundred thousand galleons to make his life easier. In the case that we become victims of Death Eaters, let it be known that Peter Pettigrew was the Keeper of our location's Secret, and henceforth be withdrawn from the eligibility of his inheritance. " (3)  
**

The yells of surprise and shock in the enclosed room were audible in the still sizable audience of the reading.

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ Amelia Bones. Yelled, jumping up from her seat. "Mister Griphook, may I request a copy of this will to be introduced as evidence in the case of Sirius Black and the murder of Peter Pettigrew, as well as the twelve dead muggles?" She asked respectfully as she collected herself.

The goblin nodded. "Permission granted, but I request that the rest of the content of the will be protected under a Secrecy Oath. We – or rather Harry Potter himself - have reason to believe, that there are individuals out there who wish to control, or harm him." He said, and Amelia's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

"Understood, Griphook." She eventually said and tapped her chin in thought. "May I request your audience to further discuss the implications of your request? I know that the Ministry and the Goblin Nation had difficulties of communication in recent years, and I would like to start working on opening more reliable channels between us."

Griphook couldn't help but give the witch a wolfish smile, "That's a fantastic idea, Madame Bones. I will owl you at a time of convenience to set up an appointment." He said and motioned for her to be seated once more.

" **To Minerva McGonagall, our wonderful mentor and friend, we leave one hundred thousand galleons, and copies of the Potter Family's Transfiguration Grimoires, furthermore we leave her a gift certificate of ten thousand galleons to Mythos Tomes, an owl order establishment, where they are able to look up any ancient text or tomes one can possibly desire. Thank you for being there for me and teaching me, my Mistress, it was a pleasure to be your Apprentice. And I know Lily couldn't have asked for a more caring second mother. We love you, and we would like you to be an honorary Aunt or Grandmother to our Harry, whichever you prefer."**

" **To Sirius Black, one of our best friends, and Harry's Godfather, we leave one hundred thousand galleons and our property near Lake Trasimeno, in Italy. May you enjoy many summers in your new vacation home. Please take care of our Harry, and be there for him, show him everything that we cannot anymore."**

Dolores Umbridge jumped up again, "That section has to be removed – Sirius Black is a convicted criminal and as such…"

Griphook looked up in anger, "If you bothered paying attention earlier, I seriously doubt that Sirius Black will remain in Azkaban for much longer. Also, as we goblins enjoy reminding you at the Ministry, Sirius Black never had a trial and a such, still eligible to everything left to him by the Potters. _Sad that you hear that part and not the significant bits_ …"

" **To Filius Flitwick, our brilliant mentor, and friend, we leave one hundred thousand galleons, and copies of the Potter Family's Charms Tome collection, furthermore, we leave him a gift certificate of ten thousand galleons, also to Mythos Tomes to enjoy. Thank you for practically adopting me into your family, my Master, it was a pleasure to be your Apprentice. I know James couldn't have asked for a better mentor in how to duel either**."

" **To Alastor Moody, the most dedicated and dangerous man we have ever had the pleasure of knowing, we leave behind the copies of the Potter Family's Dark Arts Tome. James wanted to leave you behind a few galleons, but I argued that you wouldn't trust any money given to you that you didn't inspect and earn yourself. Remember old friend, constant vigilance."**

A chuckle was heard from somewhere within the room, but no one could determine the source.

" **To Arabella Figg, we leave behind five thousand galleons to continue her business of cross-breeding cats and kneazles. Thank you for taking care of Harry when no one else was around."**

" **To Rubeus Hagrid, one of our most reliable and honored acquaintances, we leave one hundred and fifty thousand galleons and copies of the Potter Family's Magical Creatures guides and tomes. May this fortune help you in your pursuit of achieving the teaching position you always coveted. Just remember that you are much sturdier than your students; don't expect them to be able to handle creatures with a firm hand like you would."**

Dumbledore's eyebrows were raised at this reveal. _Hagrid wants to be a Professor of Care and Magical Creatures? I know he expressed some desire, but he had such a wish even back then? Kettleburn did express a desire to retire to work in Romania… could be something to bring up during the next staff meeting…_

" **To Severus Snape, a friend lost to one word, we leave behind two hundred thousand galleons and a copy of the Potter Family's Potion Grimoire. Severus, James can't express the horror of what he and his friends did to you when they were younger – he can only ask for your forgiveness, begging that this small sum will appease you on some level. I, on the other hand, don't need anything from you. I never held you in contempt for what you said in the moment of anger – all you had to do was ask, and I would have forgiven you. You were always my friend Severus. You saying that word would not have destroyed our friendship that was built upon so many years. It was always Lily and Severus, neighbors of Cokeworth, England. So please, let your pain go. Move on and live your life. Pursue your dreams and live as your own man, not as someone who you think you should be."**

Griphook rolled up his parchment, "There is a section, in the end, wishing everyone well-being and the best of wishes and the like."

Fudge jumped up at the chance, "What about where Harry should have gone? Did it mention anything about who he would have lived with?"

"There was a section dealing with that…"

"Then we demand that you read it, goblin! The Muggles who raised Harry Potter in that filthy home may be dead, but people like them must never again gain access to Wizard children ever again. We need to hear which member of their friends would have taken the child in."

"I am afraid you misunderstand Minister Fudge. Even if the will were read back when Harry's parents actually died, he would have still gone to his aunt."

"What?! How could it be? Who do we blame for such tragedy?"

Griphook gives the Minister his best smile, "Why you, Cornelius Fudge."

All eyes turned on to Fudge so fast that a collective _snap_ was echoed. The Minister of Magic paused in mid-rant, looking back down upon the goblin, "Pardon?"

Griphook opened up the parchment once more, "While Lily and James did, in fact, leave a list of candidates, circumstances after their death that were outside their control eliminated almost all of them. After the Wizarding War, due to the many half-breeds that worked for Voldemort, you instituted stricter regulations and limitations upon them. As such, Remus, Flitwick, and Hagrid were removed from the list. Alice and Frank Longbottom were instituted, and the will had no stipulations about allowing Augusta take in Potter as her own. The Lovegood's are still considered persona non grata due to their work with _The Quibbler_ under your rules, removing them from candidacy. Anyone who had a Dark Mark but was not convicted was removed as well, so that removed Severus Snape. And we all know what happened with Sirius Black…"

Minister Fudge started to physically sweat and panic, "That's… but what about the others mentioned in the will? They had a dozen or more friends besides that?!"

"While that is true, I would like to remind you ONCE MORE that most of them are dead by Voldermort hands. Everyone who isn't mentioned is probably someone not worthy of candidacy or who James and Lily believed were simply incapable or too busy to raise a child. They did, however, leave certain reasonings behind them. Unfortunately, of those people, only three are still alive, so I doubt that matter is important."

Fudge pounced, "Who were the two people?"

"Minerva McGonagall, Amelia Bones and Albus Dumbledore."

" _THEY DIDN'T LEAVE ALBUS AS SOMEONE WHO COULD ADOPT HARRY?!_ WHY?"

Griphook checked the parchment, "For Amelia, it was because at that point in time, she already took in Susan as her own – Lily believed that with her career and proprieties at the time, two would simply have been too much for her to handle at that point in time. The reasons for the other two are mostly similar, in the regards that they are both too old and have too many responsibilities that they would have not been unable to keep up with. There is, however, a distinction between the two. To Minerva, Lily left a concise explanation, asking for forgiveness for their choice. For Albus however, there a section written by James Potter…"

" **Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, while you may be a powerful and wise wizard, it is in my best opinion that you should not be the one to raise Harry James Potter on our behalf. You are kind and caring, a great teacher, and the man who lead us to most likely stop the uprising of Lord Voldermort. However, you always only considered doing what was needed for the greater good of wizards, been too easy-handed at times, and you always kept too many secrets. I am sorry to say that in all the time I knew you, there was always something about you that was unreachable. I understood your trepidation about revealing everything that you were planning and things about yourself. But even others who did the same as you could still be considered closer friends to me than you. As such, I am sad to inform you, that you are ineligible as a candidate to adopt our son."**

Griphook finally pulled the scroll away for good, "As you can see Minister Fudge, with everything that happened and all regulations that you set, there was no choice but to send Harry Potter to Lily's last possible candidate. You have no one but yourself to blame for what occurred. In all fairness, if this will was found sooner, nothing different would have truly happened on Harry Potter's behalf. It's almost as if someone purposefully made sure of that…"

" _WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?_ ARE YOU SAYING THAT THE MINISTRY IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE WILL BEING LOST?" screamed Umbridge in a fury.

"Actually, in this case, I am," replied Griphook calmly. "You see, the will had an unusual stipulation in it: Sirius Black had to be the one to request for it. It was an open secret since anyone who inquired about the will would have been told that only Mr. Black could get it. Unfortunately, since he was moved to Azkaban without any possible trial or hearing, the will had to be locked away until further notice."

Griphook observed as every person in the room deflated in defeat, "As you can see Minister Fudge and Dolores Umbridge, everything that happened to Harry Potter in his short life can directly be tied back to you all at the Ministry. When we presented this evidence to the young Potter, he did his best to control his fury. As you can imagine, he holds the Ministry as a **whole** in contempt and indignation…" (4)

Griphook noted a young male wizard running up to Amelia Bones, whispering something before passing on a parchment.

"If I am to guess, can I only assume that the parchment you just received had the time and date for Sirius Black's hearing?"

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement nodded, "Yes it is. I expedited the process as soon as you read Pettigrew's. I am sorry for the rush."

"None at all. We in Gringott's will just have to expedite the copy of the will to your department for the trial."

"THERE WILL BE NO TRIAL!" screamed Fudge. "SIRIUS BLACK IS A CRIMINAL AND A MURDERER!"

Before Griphook had a chance to rebut, Amelia Bones beat him to it, "The entire 'trial' which you speak of is based entirely on the fact that that Sirius Black was considered to be the Potter's Secret Keeper. If Sirius found out what Pettigrew did and attempt to catch him for his betrayal, then the murder of those twelve Muggles as well as why Pettigrew screamed what he did can be seen in an entirely different light. As such, despite your claims, Sirius Black _will_ have a trial, and there _will_ be a hearing! HIS STORY AND EVERYTHING THAT WAS COVERED UP WILL BE HEARD!"

Minister Fudge began to pace away, "What are you…"

Amelia pointed at Fudge, "Don't try to deny it. Did you really think we at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ever believed that Bartemius Crouch stepped down as head because he was distraught for sending his son to Azkaban? No – he left because of what he had to do to send Sirius to Azkaban. Sirius's may have had his opinions about Crouch for publicly expressing his hatred for his son and to disown him in front of the entire Wizengamot. But Sirius and Crouch had no bad blood; Sirius and Lucius, however, is another story… It's not a guarded secret that Lucius made a sizable donation to you _again_ after all the other Death Eaters were released. Not hard to deduce what the request was."

"That," spoke Griphook out loud despite the screaming match between Bones and Fudge, "is all I needed to hear."

Griphook slowly reached out for a sealed letter – something not seen in the Wizarding World – since they relied on parchment.

"Harry Potter left the following instructions in the case that Sirius Black was admitted back into the system for his trial and if probable cause of Lucius being involved was mentioned." Griphook opened up the letter and started reading it to a silenced hall.

" _By now everyone present has realized that Sirius Black was not responsible for the death of my parents. If you are still lost, then you are dunderheads who can't figure out that Pettigrew sold them out, murdered twelve Muggles and framed my godfather by screaming that he was their Secret Keeper."_

Dumbledore almost audibly gasped. " _Dunderheads? But that's a phrase only Snape uses? How does he know it unless…"_

" _Guess what? I am pissed._

 _What makes it worse for you lot is that you almost allowed Lucius Malfoy to take my money. So you know what? I am a devout follower of Hammurabi's Code: an eye for an eye._

 _So let me give you a little trivia regarding Wizarding law: when Sirius was admitted back into the system for his trial, his title as Lord Black was returned. Unfortunately, since he is currently on trial, a Temporary Lord Black has to be chosen. Too bad for you Lucius, since Bellatrix is incarcerated in Azkaban, Andromeda is a Tonks, and Narcissa is currently a Malfoy . So guess who is left? As his godson and relative, I am now Lord Black until the trial ends."_

Audible awes was followed by certain individuals falling back into their seats.

" _Now normally, since I am not of age, I would have no authority. Thankfully, the law allows some leeway in such circumstance. Ironically, it was a Malfoy who made the law – guess crime really does run in the family. It doesn't let me sit in as the Lord at the meetings nor does it give me access to the Black Vaults – since I am not an actual Black – but I can still administer the few family members that are left. So you know what Lucius? I am annulling your marriage to Narcissa. With that out of the way, I am recalling the dowry that Cygnus Black the 3rd gave you. And with that, your current fortune has been halved, putting your Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy into lower standing and financial strain. You should have been more careful with your transactions: give someone enough time, even they can figure out how much a family has. And you know what? I won't let you remarry, Sirius probably won't – even if you help out his case - and even if he did, I doubt he will give a dowry. You should already now how much of rebel Sirius is; I doubt he will follow tradition. Narcissa, you can either stay at the or you can move to your family home for the time being. You should also know that Draco has the choice to remain a Malfoy or switch families. It's all up to him when he gets his mind back."_

Griphook looked up to see Lucius's head in his hands, while Minister Fudge fidgeted more and more, trying to figure out a way to worm himself out of this predicament.

" _Let this serve as a warning to everyone present. Also, let me make a few things clear._

 _I hate the Ministry as a whole for the hell you put me through. There are a few of you in the Ministry who I see as honorable and proud wizards, like Amelia Bones and Arthur Weasley. The rest know who you are._

 _I hate Wizengamot for not coming to my aide when I had no one left. Guess being the son of the Noble and Ancient House Potter doesn't guarantee any extra assistance. But since I was half-blood and not pure-blood, I take it you lot weren't motivated enough to do so._

 _But most of all, I despise Albus Dumbledore. I found the letter you left my aunt, so I know what you did. There is no redemption for you, so don't even bother looking for me. The rest of Hogwarts I have no problem with so they can look for me. But if I ever see your pasty white beard, I will kill you._

 _So, in conclusion, I – Harry James Potter – have returned to the Wizarding World. And I will kill every Death Eater who is still serving Voldemort. So I am giving you all a warning._

 _Don't bother looking for me and leave me the hell alone. This is your only warning._

 _You may laugh seeing as how I am only eleven years old. That is true. I mean, I don't have much. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over the years. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you stay out of my way and remain in hiding, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you. (5)  
_

 _Have a good day."_

Griphook folded the letter away, "Now, you have a lot of information to process, so I will bid you all adieu. I have a lot of owls to send out to the beneficiaries of the will to inform them of their new holdings." Griphook looked up before leaving, "I hope to hear from you again soon enough, Amelia Bones."

It was only after Griphook that cacophony and panic descended upon the chambers.

 _Harry, what have you done?_

In all the chaos, no one saw a blue beetle fly out of the room.

* * *

 _October 3rd, 2011_

Harry couldn't help but note that it was an unusually quiet lunch meal on this sunny Monday. It didn't make it any better since every student present noted that Albus Dumbledore was not present at the teacher table.

That's when the owls descended. Usually, it's just a few owls here and there. Now, there a was a menagerie of multi-colored owls flying into the hall, each carrying what appeared to be some special edition of the _Daily Prophet_ for every student present.

As all the newspapers were being delivered, Harry couldn't help but note a select few were carrying parchments to McGongall, Snape, Hagrid, Flitwick, Susan Bones, and Neville Longbottom.

Harry didn't notice their reactions as he finally managed to see the front page of the paper. He couldn't help but smile.

 _What a mediocre game you played Lucius. One game ends with a Pedestal Mate. And now… so many more games have begun. I opened all of the with the Ruy Lopez and now we see what happens. Game on… Game on indeed…_

 _ **THE BOY-WHO-LIVED RETURNS WITH A VENGENCE!**_

 _Sirius Black conviction questioned as revealed by the Potter Will!_

 _Harry Potter is acting Lord Black while his Godfather awaits his trial!_

 _Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy are forcefully divorced!_

 _Lucius Malfoy's son Draco admitted to St. Mungo's!_

 _Investigations of allegations of corruption against Minister Cornelius Fudge!_

 _Harry Potter declares war on Death Eaters who have gotten away with their crimes!_

 _Harry Potter declares his hatred of Albus Dumbledore!_

 _Harry Potter still in hiding!_

 _All this and more in a special exclusive written by Rita Skeeter._

* * *

 **(1) My passage regarding spells of absolutes makes sense in a way. It would explain why some people are better in charms and some are better in** transfiguration **; it's like the 'Naruto' chakra situation. If you have power, you don't have finesse but if you lack power, you have good control and management. And in case I wasn't being clear, transfiguration is basically imposing once will and changing something but charms is the manipulation of something without changing its nature or adds certain properties. Basically, charms are distinguished from transfigurations in that a charm adds or changes properties of an object; it focuses on altering what the object does as opposed to what the object is.**

 **(2) "Ver Purgatio' is Latin for 'Spring Cleaning'. I got it from an episode of 'Bones'.**

 **(3) I don't know whether or not this is legal in the real world, but I figure anything written in a will is basically iron-clad, especially in the Wizarding World where magic enforces the truth. Hence, the reveal.**

 **(4) Note which word is bolded, this will come into play later**

 **(5) Enough of you have made jokes about the source of this speech already so I won't bother mentioning the source.**


	20. Fall Out Boy

**Chapter 20: Fall Out Boy  
**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Hello everyone, I am back!**

 **Now some of you have messaged me about when I would update my story over the last few months. I have no good excuse other than the fact I got hooked on FanFiction, and I suck at writing.**

 **I should explain.**

 **If you check my Favorites, you see I got a lot of stories in there. Granted, they gave me a lot of ideas for future works – including some ideas I jotted down in my forum – but combine that with work and stuff, it took me a while to read them to completion.**

 **My second fault is that I am more of an idea man than a writer. That is to say, I have difficulty putting down what I have in my head on paper. How bad is it? I have this story worked out all the way to the 4** **th** **year, yet I am still stuck all the way back at the beginning of the 1** **st** **year. I am seriously considering getting a co-writer so that I can publish my story faster for you guys.**

 **In any case, those are poor excuses for not posting sooner. Hopefully, this chapter will make it up on some level.**

 **FYI. I updated the past chapters a while back. If you haven't read this story from start to finish or you simply need a refresher, please reread them. The changes aren't significant since it's mostly spelling and grammar corrections, but some things are somewhat key to the story in the long run.**

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

 _October 3_ _rd_ _, 2011_

* * *

The European wizard known as Remus Lupin was currently observing his flock of sheep in the plains of the Sudan (1). He has spent the last decade living there in what can only be described as imposed solitude and exile. In all fairness, he could have lived near Uagadou School of Magic in Uganda, as they were more accepting of werewolves and their misfortune in life. Instead, he chose to let his guilt and pain swallow him and force himself away from other wizards and witches.

The irony of a werewolf raising a flock of sheep to sell and live off is also something Remus didn't want any wizard questioning. Despite most magic folk lacking common sense and logic – something he managed to regain due to his interactions with Lily – even they can still understand irony.

To be fair though, it was a good living: sheep were an important commodity in these regions and him being an alpha predator kept other animals away from snatching his livelihood for his monthly Wolfsbane Potions. Plus, after a decade of treating the locals of their maladies with his healing spells free of charge, they overlooked the occasional times when he killed an animal or two during his transformations.

The fact that he also brought weapons for them to kill him if he ever lost control didn't deter them from reminding Remus what could happen.

In any case, Remus daily cycle has remained consistent for some time now. You can imagine his surprise, however, when an owl arrived at his hut carrying a letter and a copy of the _Daily Prophet,_ a paper he no longer subscribed to.

Especially since no one actually read the British paper out here in the middle of Africa.

Shrugging his shoulders in acceptance of the situation, Remus put the items away to read at a later time, as he didn't want to leave his lunch unfinished. Noting, however, that the owl wouldn't leave, Remus realized that it must be waiting for a reply to the letter. As he reached out, the owl hopped onto his arm and dragged it to the paper he folded over, preventing him from seeing the front page.

"Alright already, I'll check the paper first. Honestly though, what can possibly… be…"

Remus dropped his meal in shock as he went over each headline twice before reading the articles in question as to what has transpired in the Ministry only a day before.

 _This… this can't be… Sirius was innocent… Oh, sweet Merlin, thank the magics! He is innocent! And Harry is alive and well! Don't know how the Prongslet got himself in the position as Lord Black but who cares, he got to Lucius and Narcissa. And he managed to get a call of no confidence on Fudge. But his hatred of Albus… The article doesn't specify why he hates him though… who is the aunt he mentioned, however? Wait… Lily had a sister... Petunia I believe… I swear I read that something happened to her… I'll check it later. I haven't really kept in touch with anyone since James and Lily died, and I was denied guardianship of Harry… In any case, what happened to Draco? All it says is that he is in 's, but it doesn't specify for what. Plus, why to throw such a topic into this article – it doesn't relate to it as a whole. Plus, what was in the Potter Will? I understand no details were published likely due to a Secrecy Spell placed during the reading but still…_

Remus noted that the owl handed over the letter he delivered alongside the paper, one that Remus quickly realized contained the official Gringotts logo and the mailing address of one Ted Tonks.

 _Tonks? Isn't he the Muggle-born lawyer husband of Andromeda? Why is he messaging me on official Gringott's business?_

As Remus ripped the string that tied the parchment, he started to read it through. By the time he was done, he was doing his best to hold back the tears going down his face.

 _James… Lily… oh, bless you both… you gave me too much…_

Something that most Muggle-born and Muggle-raised half-bloods don't realize about wizards as a whole is how much exactly everything costs in their society. When they are first introduced to Diagon Alley, the items they buy for school aren't that expensive. Granted, a wand does cost 7 galleons, but to most, it's a one time purchase. There is also the fact that magic covers are a lot of tasks and necessities that Muggles need tools to accomplish. Who needs a vacuum cleaner and a gas oven when you have a spell to clean up the entire house or heat up your casserole with a wave of a wand? What most don't realize, however, is the big jump in demands of living that crop up when they become adults and decide to live anywhere in the wizarding world. Ignoring the required taxes that each wizard must pay based on both actual earnings and house standings – with older and more respected houses paying the expected heftier galleon sums – there are also other factors to consider. Some things include clothing made of magical ingredients has to be done by hand, or that edible necessity has to be grown without magic (unlike magical ingredients whose growth rates can be accelerated without risks to the eater), or a plethora of other reasons. (2)

In short summation, to someone like Remus Lupin, who came from a family of no high standing who literally lived off of less than 100 galleons a year happily with money left over… the sum he got from the Potters was staggering. To the Nobel and Ancient House of Potter, the money he received could probably last for less than a few years just to pay for taxes to the Ministry and on the Potter Manor. This isn't even considering their other land holdings, business holdings, investment, and Gringott's dues. But to someone like Remus, who had nothing and barely paid anything to the Ministry to begin with when he did live in Europe… suffice to say, he would never have to work again – nor would his grandkids, if he had any.

Wondering what exactly the owl wanted from him, Remus quickly noted that Sirius was expected to get a trial by the end of next week. Realizing his presence was most likely required as a character witness or for Sirius's well being, Remus quickly drafted his reply.

 _Wait, when is it… October 12_ _th_ _… a little tricky with my condition but not impossible. I can probably ask for Amelia Bones to set up a cage for me at the DMLE for those nights since I am going to attend the trial and need protection..._

After finishing his reply and reminding Tonks of his condition, he quickly tied the message to the owl's legs. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Nodding in understanding, the owl took off.

Remus looked at his flock for what would probably be the last time, he laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

 _Well Remus, despite your 'furry' problem, you now have a cottage in Ayr and more money than you will ever need... Guess I can just give away the sheep to the village as thanks for allowing me to live near them… hope they don't build a shrine to me or anything…_

* * *

Neville didn't expect that day to start off in such a fashion as it did, nor did he ever think it would escalate to such a degree. First, the fact that Dumbledore was not in his usual seat at the Teacher's Table. Then, there was the news revealing just what could be the most politically monumental shift in direction anyone has ever seen in the last century of wizard politics. Finally, he didn't expect that the Potter's would leave him a sizable addition to his trust and a house in Galway of all places.

He was so focused on the letter his Grandmother send him regarding what happened at the hearing that he didn't hear a Hufflepuff run up to him.

"Neville. NEVILLE! Snap out of it!"

Neville finally realized what was happening as Susan started to shake him. "Oh, Susan. I am sorry… I was just reading the news, and then there was the letter…"

"From your gran, yes I know. Did you get anything from the Potter's?"

"They left a home in Galaway for my parents and twenty-five thousand galleons for my trust," nodded Neville.

"Makes sense, the Longbottom's and Potter's have always been close. They left my aunt ten thousand galleons for whatever she wants."

"Close? Turns out that Lily Potter was my godmother! Harry and I were practically raised in the same crib if the will was any indication!"

This shocked Susan, "Blimey… are you serious? But why wasn't it read at the hearing?"

"It's actually more due to my grandmother. Since she accepted everything on my parent's behalf, she was allowed to read the rest of the will. She knew that my parents were close with the Potters since they went to Hogwarts together, but she never knew that our parents were each other godmothers. I don't think James Potter was my godfather but still…"

Susan nodded, "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Sirius Black was your godfather."

Neville chuckled nervously, "That wasn't really my concern but thanks. Was he Harry's godfather under the ritual?"

Susan nodded, "My aunt says he apparently was, which is why he is getting a hearing as soon as possible. They will test him to make sure, but it won't really matter."

"What do you mean?"

"While the Godfather and Godmother Ritual ensures that the recipient of the title can never harm the subject of their well-being directly or indirectly without forfeiting their life – hence why it is such a good indicator of character – there is also a little-known fact about it that my aunt told me about. Turns out, due to the nature of the ritual to ensure the subject's well-being in all circumstances and situations, the recipient is not able to become a subject of other roles or rituals that would interfere with that role. As such, IF Sirius was already Harry's Godfather…"

Neville caught on, "Then he couldn't have been the Secret Keeper of Godric's Hollow since Sirius wouldn't be able to know if whoever he had told the secret would harm Harry or not."

Susan nodded, "Exactly."

Neville shook his head trying to accepting everything that has been dropped on the unsuspecting wizard populace, "But wait, why wasn't…"

"No one knew that Sirius was Harry's godfather via the ritual. If they did, then they would know he wasn't the Secret Keeper. So in any case, even if for some reason we find out that he isn't a godfather via the ritual but just in name, then he is still free since the Potter Will revealed that Peter Pettigrew was the _real_ Secret Keeper."

Neville nodded, understanding the logic of the explanation. "Did your Aunt Amelia tell you why Peter was even the Secret Keeper rather than Sirius?"

Susan shook her head, "No. She will most likely ask Sirius today when she gets to Azkaban to remove him for treatment at 's before his trial."

It was at this particular moment that Hermione walked up to the two from the Ravenclaw's table, "Hey Neville, did you finish reading…"

"I did, Hermione. And honestly… it was shocking."

Hermione nodded, "But can you explain to me why it's such a big deal?"

"What do you mean?"

Hermione looked at the Hufflepuff, "I am sorry, but you are…"

Susan put out her hand, "Susan Bones."

Hermione raised her eyebrow, "Any relation to Amelia Bones?"

"She is my aunt and caretaker."

Hermione nodded and shook her hand, "Well met. I am Hermione Granger." She sat down on Neville's left while Susan on his right. "I am a Muggle-born, so I don't really understand wizard politics all that much. Can you tell me why everyone is reacting like… _this_?"

"Oh, I see. Sorry Hermione, sometimes forget that you are Muggle-born and all..."

"Neville," Hermione said calmly, "just because I _happen_ to understand magic better than you _at the moment_ does not make you a worse wizard. You just got your new wand… it will take time to get acclimated to it."

"I know, Hermione, I know…"

Susan watched curiously at the conversation that seemed to have existed for some time now between the two. _Does Neville really have that much trouble with magic? Wasn't he trained by Dumbledore or something? Something to write Amelia about… (3)  
_

"But anyway Neville, can you explain this article point by point?"

Neville slowly gained back his confidence as he took out his own paper, "Well… let's start from the top."

Hermione nodded, "Right – Sirius Black and the Potter Will. Why is such a big deal?"

"You've heard about Sirius right?" inquired Susan.

"Yes. I've come across his name in the books that talked about Harry Potter."

"Then clearly, you need to forget everything you read from them _like I told you_ on the train."

The three kids finally registered MacLeod sitting opposite of them, enjoying his eggs and bacon.

"Hi Harry."

"Hello Neville, Hermione. It is nice to meet you, Susan."

Bones stared in confusion, "How do you…"

Neville sighed, "Susan, meet Harry MacLeod – the biggest enigma of this schools since… ever. He has a habit of… knowing things."

Harry sighed, "It is only prudence to know all the future heirs in your year even if you are unlikely to ever become friends with them. In any case, it's nice to finally meet you. I have heard great things about your aunt. I hope you are of similar constitution as well."

Susan smiled, "What, you want access to a 'get out of jail' card in the future or something?"

Harry and Hermione laughed at the reference while Neville stared in confusion.

"It's a muggle thing, Neville. Although, the fact you know the reference is interesting."

"Not all of us wizard raised are ignorant of Muggle culture. My aunt, for example, made sure I was aware of at least _some_ Muggle nomenclature."

Harry paused his meal, glaring at Susan, thinking, causing her to start panicking. "You Aunt was born in London in 1978, was she not?"

"Yes?" She asked worryingly.

Harry smiled, "When you get the chance, ask her if she ever saw **Queen** in concert or if she was just a fan."

Susan eyes bulged, "How did you…"

Harry looked up smiling, "You just told me."

Before Susan got a chance to close her mouth in shock, Hermione and Neville couldn't help but snicker. "In any case Hermione, let's start with the Potter Will, the keystone of this entire article."

Harry finished his plate before putting it to the side, "Neville and Susan may correct me if I am wrong since they have family who were at its hearing and have written to them about things not mentioned in the _Daily Prophet_ , but I believe I got the gist of it."

As the three leaned closer to hear him out, they failed to notice others at the Gryffindor table listening in.

"The Potter Will was something that everyone thought didn't exist. Now, since everyone now knows that it was in Gringotts all this time and was only accessible by Sirius Black, even the most adamant _must_ realize that someone was responsible for making sure that he was sent to Azkaban as quickly as possible and _stayed_ there. Granted, he did make it easier when he fought Peter Pettigrew in the open and ended up being blamed for the death of all those Muggles, but that is neither here nor there."

"Still not seeing the big picture. I mean, I get that it was to make sure that Harry Potter had no one…"

Harry chuckled, "Potter was never the intended target in this power move, Hermione."

"He wasn't?" Susan asked a little too worryingly.

"Despite what others think, the Wizarding World doesn't revolve around Harry Potter. No, I can only assume that the jailing of Sirius Black was a family matter."

Neville pondered, "Lucius and Narcissa? Or are you referring to Draco?"

Harry waved his hand, "A little of both, more so the Malfoy half than the Black part."

Hermione dawned in realization, "Is that why Harry divorced the two as he got the Black title?"

Harry nodded, "Indeed. While Draco is still technically a Black by blood, the Malfoy line of succession overrules the Black line of succession since the two are divorced. Granted, Draco can choose to be a Black if he goes with his mother and Lord Black takes him in, but…"

Susan nodded, "But Draco is currently in 's – which is why it is mentioned in the article."

"Exactly. Despite Rita Skeeter being more of a tabloid writer who… 'exaggerates'… facts from time to time… even she is capable enough to point this out to the more informed masses. Such as the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the like."

"Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

"Ask Susan about it, Hermione – she will give you the non-bigoted version. In any case, the significant part of this will fall on Lucius."

"How so?" asked Neville, more so for Hermione since he was already connecting the dots so to speak.

"Draco, son of Lucius, was the expected future Lord Black when Sirius dies and he becomes of age. Lucius, a former Death Eater by 'Imperius Curse,' had the money and connections with other former Death Eaters, is the most likely candidate to be responsible for ensuring that Sirius ended up in Azkaban without a trial. Millicent Bagnold and Barty Crouch Senior will also experience _some_ fallout from this since they should have prevented this. Fudge is definitely screwed since he should look into it, ESPECIALLY since he visited Sirius on more than one occasion in Azkaban to either rub it in or interrogate him for information about his _expected_ Death Eater connections."

"What would visiting him in Azkaban have anything to do with his incarceration?"

"Why, it's elementary my dear Susan," Harry said jokingly while holding an imaginary pipe to the others amusement, "Fudge would always go with an Auror or two to visits Sirius. After every meeting, someone would have to add the visit to Sirius's file in the DMLE, which means that they would have to either notice the lack of his trial or add in the fact that Sirius kept telling them he was innocent or the like. In any case, someone should have noticed that something didn't add up. Only two people should have had the power to make sure it never came to that – Amelia Bones or…"

"Cornelius Fudge." This realization dawned on many other than the three staring directly at Harry.

"Correct. Now, do you expect an individual – one who clearly lacks a backbone and cares more about appearances than actually doing anything – to do so without something in return? Here's a hint: Ministry earnings are public record, and _Daily Prophet_ has posted pictures of Fudge's MANSION on more than one occasion."

A girl at the Hufflepuff's table who was listening in banged her fist on the table as her hair turned bloody red, "That bloody sack of s*** took bribes from Lucius Malfoy?!"

Luckily, only Flitwick and Hagrid were currently at the Teacher's Table and made no comments.

Harry turned around smiling as everyone else was in shock. "Now, now, language Miss Nymphadora Tonks." Before the girl got a chance to correct him in anger, Harry continues, "Or should it be Nymphadora 'call me Tonks' Black by now?"

This finally got the attention of Hagrid as he looked up from his meal – although only Harry noticed this.

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Well, Hermione, the girl who gave us a very succinct explanation of what will be the conclusion of Fudge's trial, is the daughter of Ted Tonks and Andromeda Tonks née Black, _currently_ disowned a member of the House of Black."

"Currently?"

"Yes Hermione, currently. With Harry Potter's upbringing," - words that made everyone listening cringe since everyone was aware of what happened to him and the Dursley's – "I seriously doubt that he, as Lord Black, would allow something as little as bigotry to break apart families."

"But what about Narcissa and Lucius?"

"That I am not so sure about that, Susan. Maybe Neville's grandmother knows, but I believe there is a bigger back story there that no one is aware of."

Hermione nodded as she finally put it all together, "But what about the last three points?"

Harry rechecked the paper, "Hmmm… that seems more like something Rita would exaggerate…"

"No, it was Harry. Gran tells me he send a letter through the goblin representative of Gringott's to the Wizengamot. He didn't say that he will _actively_ search for Death Eaters but… all evidence points to him making a very direct challenge and attack on Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater."

Harry nodded, "So she took the message to a 'logical' conclusion so to speak."

"Maybe," pondered Hermione. "I may not understand how politics works, but this seems like she is bantering to the masses, almost like she is defending the Death Eaters still out there or something."

"You are not far off, Hermione, since the Death Eaters who got away scot-free with the 'Imperius Curse' defense make up a big chunk of the more influential families in Britain. Heck, all their heirs are over there in Slytherin," pointed Susan. (4)

"Except for Draco."

"Except for Draco. The other heirs or children of supporters have either already graduated or are joining us for the next two years or so."

Pondering for the last time, Hermione finally asked, "But what about this hatred of Dumbledore that Rita mentioned?"

Harry sighed, "That I do not know. I can only assume it had something to do with the letter Neville mentioned. I am personally leaning toward the idea that Albus was responsible for Harry's placement at his Aunt's home. But I can't make a conjecture without more data to work with. Although it does make sense in a certain way."

"But… he is Albus Dumbledore," pleaded Hermione.

"Hermione… he is still a man. A powerful man, but still a man – he is going to make mistakes in his life. Personally, I am surprised he hasn't made more with his positions. I mean seriously, he holds the three most powerful positions in Britain, each requiring a person's full dedication and commitment. It's not like he can delegate his tasks to others but NO, the masses only think of him as the Great and Powerful Albus Dumbledore - he can do everything with his mighty power that defeated Grindelwald."

The three kids looked at Harry as realization struck them, almost akin as if a lightbulb went off in their heads. Others joined soon after.

Susan started off worryingly, "Harry is right… I mean Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, and Chief Warlock are all full-time positions…" (5)

Harry raised his finger, "Don't forget being the magical guardian of every Muggle-born witch and wizard in these halls – that a job all in itself."

Hermione opened her mouth in shock, "How does he do it all?"

Harry shrugged, "Well, unless he uses a time turner, I can only extrapolate that he gives most of his responsibilities regarding Hogwarts to McGonagall, which combined with her teaching position, Head of Gryffindor, AND Deputy Headmistress, means that things fall through the cracks for her." (6)

"But what does Dumbledore do then?" finally asked Hermione – filing the mention of a time turner to look up later - as the Gryffindor House started to realize why their supposed 'Mother' of their 'Gryffindor family' has never done anything regarding their complaints for the last few years.

"Politics," said Neville as his clenched hands became red from his suppressed rage, "the old bastard has been playing politics in Wizengamot and ICW while our Head of House has been busy doing his work for him."

"Yup. Why do you think the other houses have no problem talking to their Head while we in Gryffindor always get in trouble when we try to solve problems on our own? It's Gryffindor courage, bravery, and nerve that keep getting our points removed when they take matters into their own hands, rather than the hands of the Head of the House."

While Harry said this nonchalantly as he finished his coffee, the rest of Gryffindor was being weighted down by their guilt since they realized their actions in the last few years have only put McGonagall in the worst position since it kept giving her more work.

' _We have to apologize somehow to her,'_ was a thought that went through everyone in one iteration or another.

"Well, I hope I answered all your questions because I have to get ready for class."

* * *

"Daddy."

"What is Luna?"

"Have you read the _Daily Prophet_ today?"

"Not really, I am busy planning our winter trip to the Amazon Rainforest to look for Aquavirus Maggots and Gulping Plimpies. Why?"

"It's nothing. I just talked to Ginny, and she said something big happened in Wizengamot yesterday regarding Stubby Boardman."

"Really? Sirius Black? I'll look into it later when I have the time."

"Okay. I'll go look for Nargels then. See you later, Daddy."

"Be back by dinner, sweetheart."

* * *

On an island in the middle of the North Sea stood a structure. Surrounding this triangle shaped structure and its towers were hordes of Dementors, flying either above the structure or near the structure itself, particularly in the top most parts, reserved for the worst of the criminals.

At the very top of one of the towers was one solitary cell, separated from the rest. Some would argue it was to keep a prisoner away from others. In truth, however, that particular tower was used to kill off its inhabitant as quickly as possible as the Dementors passed through it more often than the other parts of Azkaban.

At that particular moment, the cell was occupied by a dog that looked like a Grim. It was currently waking up as it was almost time for lunch.

 _Damn it,_ sighed Sirius. _Another day, another breakfast not delivered by Luciu's men._

While Lucius did pay off Fudge to quickly send Sirius off to Azkaban, he expected him to die much earlier. When the months transitioned to years, Lucius started to slowly pay off the Aurors working in Azkaban to make his stay even more unbearable. Unfortunately, Lucius didn't know that Sirius was an Animagius, which made him less susceptible to the Dementors emotional drain. That and the fact he _knew_ he was innocent of his convicted crime combined with his will and determination ensured that he was mostly immune from the wraiths influence and the efforts of his guards.

 **Mostly**.

A decade of exposure still adds up.

As he heard footsteps from the twisting staircase that led up to his cell, Sirius quickly morphed back.

 _Sounds like a lot of them coming up – did Fudge decide to visit again?_

Two Aurors walked up to his cell, noting his condition. "Sirius Black, your presence is required."

"Really?" Looked up Sirius in faked amusement, "Little Ole' me has visitors?"

One Auror took out his wand as another took out a pair of magic-suppressing cuffs as started opening up his cell, "Please put these on before we take you downstairs for your meal and visit."

This caught Sirius off-guard. _Odd, their acting… considerate and nice. These guys aren't new – are they from the DMLE? But why are they…?_

Weighing his options, Sirius considered going with the lesser of two evils as he cuffed himself and allowed the Auror to check them. After making sure they worked and were tight, the two slowly led Sirius to the visiting room on the lower levels of Azkaban, the only place Dementors were unable to reach. It was ironic really when Sirius pondered it; Muggles like to believe that going higher and higher gets them closer to Heaven in their oddly religious minds – in Azkaban, it got them closer to Hell due to the Dementors.

It took some time for the trio to reach the lower levels, more so due to Sirius weakness and the fact they took the long way to avoid passing by the other prisoners, something Sirius noted.

 _Okay, seriously, what is going on?_

That question was quickly answered when Sirius entered the visiting room and saw the last person he expected to see.

"Andromeda?"

People always liked to joke that Andromeda closely resembled her older sister Bellatrix, which Sirius always found insulting. Granted, they were both tall and bore the patrician beauty commonly associated with the Black family. However, unlike her sister, Andromeda had light brown hair and genuinely caring eyes that showed none of her sister's arrogance and insanity.

Sirius then quickly noted the _other_ big surprise in the room with her.

"AMELIA BONES?"

Honestly, seeing the Head of the DMLE in the one place, she despised _was_ in fact in surprise. Sirius quickly noted her appearance: the same square-jaw, her blond hair slowly graying hair yet a face free of wrinkles – a clear sign of stress aging. _The monocle is new._

"What, am I chopped liver or something?" (7)

Sirius finally noted the other person in the room. Took him a while to remember the name of the fair-haired man with the mellow and pleasant voice. "Ted? Is that you?"

The man smiled, "At the moment, it's Edward Tonks, the lawyer representing you at Wizengamot in a little over a week."

Sirius' brain stopped.

Took him a good thirty seconds to reboot before anyone got a chance to ask if he was okay.

"Come again now?"

Amelia sighed in resignation, "Boys, un-cuff the man and bring in his meal."

While Sirius rubbed his wrists and tried to register what he heard, the two Aurors brought in a light meal for him to eat. Amelia looked up at the Aurors after Sirius finally sat down and slowly started to eat, "That will be all for now. Please go back to the boat and wait for us."

Both Aurors quickly nodded before leaving the four in the visiting room.

Took Sirius a good five minutes to finish his meal before finally asking the question he dreaded hearing the answer to.

"So… what happened?"

Ted looked at Amelia, getting a nod from her before continuing, "You want the short version or the long version?"

"I'll get the details on the trip out of this Merlin-forsaken place, so give me the highlights."

Ted smiled, "Okay, since you asked." He took out a bottle of Firewhiskey and a shot glass which he quickly poured and gave to Sirius. "You're going to need it in a second."

Seriously blanched. _What the hell happened out there? War? Revolution? The Statute of Secrecy shattered?... Did I sire a bastard who did something? (8)  
_

"Harry Potter became Lord Black and called a trial for your illegal imprisonment."

Sirius' brain stopped again.

He quickly put down the shot glass and started drinking directly from the bottle before anyone got a chance to stop him. Took a good four gulps to finally calm his nerves.

"Harry… Prongslet is alive? He is back?"

Amelia gazed, "So you are aware of what was happening in the world?"

"Fudge would occasionally come to taunt me, leaving behind newspapers for significant events – always had the same two Aurors with him. Don't remember their names, never bothered learning them – I already knew that they were in his pocket."

She nodded in understanding, "Explains why you stopped complaining to them that you never got a trial."

"After the first year or so. Didn't take long to figure out that Lucius was behind it." (9)

Andromeda chuckled, "Was it that obvious?"

Sirius smirked, "I knew Fudge when we were in Hogwarts. Sometimes I wondered if he felt bad cutting up the slugs for Potions class. I mean, they were practically related."

He took another swig of the bottle while Ted wrote something down, "The worst is when he came in the paper reporting that those _**freaks**_ home burned down, and Harry was most likely dead. He tried torturing me for information on how I got the Death Eaters to kill him on my _**master's**_ behalf in revenge. Not even shifting into my Animagius form prevented the Dementors from affecting me."

Ted looked up from his notes, "Unregistered?"

"Yeah. Doesn't really matter at this point – I spent the last decade in here, I doubt they will put me back again for that."

Amelia nodded, "Just you?"

"No. It was me, James, and _**Peter**_ when we were in Hogwarts." He took a sip this time, clearly finally getting tipsy from his last six gulps. "Remember our friend Remus?"

Andromeda nodded, "Yeah. Sickly looking kid, but smart as they came. Didn't he want to be a healer or something? What happened to him?"

Sirius shrugged, "Probably hiding out somewhere being crushed by his guilt."

"Ah, yes, because of his disease," realized Amelia, "the goblin mentioned he wasn't able to adopt Harry because of it."

"James used to call it his 'furry little problem,'" smiled Sirius as he remembered a fond memory. "Once we found out about it, we spend the next few years trying to become Animagius to help him out during the full moon."

Ted looked up quizzically, "Why?"

"Animagius in their animal form can't be affected by Lycanthropy. Add that to the fact that Slughorn started making the Wolfsbane potion for Remus in the later years and his condition actually became tolerable to him."

Andromeda pushed on, "What were your forms?"

"As you can guess from my nickname for Harry, James was a stag, I was a Grim, and _**Peter**_ was a rat… The irony is not lost on me in hindsight." (10)

Ted wrote something down on another paper, "We will register your form later. For now, describe Peter's form."

Sirius shrugged, "Not much to tell really. Standard looking rat, brown-black coloring, tail was a little twisted like a worm… He is missing his right index finger if that helps – can't replace that."

Amelia sighed, "We will post a notice regarding that in the _Daily Prophet_ if that helps. The goblins say he is still alive, but that's all they are able to tell us."

Sirius looked at Amelia in shock, "They could do that?"

"They have special blood magic that allows them to track the status of its bank's customers. It was them who told us that Harry was still alive somewhere," answered Ted without looking up from his notes.

"So… he is still in hiding somewhere," spoke Sirius dejectedly.

Sensing her cousin's pain, Andromeda spoke out. "If it helps, Harry is still alive and in contact with the British branch of Gringott's."

"He is?"

"Yes," spoke Amelia, "it's how he got his letter to the Wizengamot – he gave it to Griphook who was representing the institution in Lucius's final bid to get the Potter Vaults."

Hope appeared in Sirius' eyes. "Prongslet…"

Andromeda sensed the ember that needed fanning, "You haven't even heard the best news yet."

"Better than finding out my godson is alive and is directly responsible for my future release?"

Andromeda leaned closer, "Harry – or acting Lord Black until after your trial – annulled Narcissa's and Lucius's marriage. He even took back the dowry."

Sirius almost smiled before reconsidering, "What does that have to do with me?"

Ted looked up with a wicked smirk, "Who do you think is paying for my services?"

Sirius had pondered for a moment before his eyes widened in shock, "No…"

"As soon as she received notice from Gringotts's of her 'divorce,' she immediately gathered everything of personal value and importance, grabbed the house elf – I believe his name was Dobby – and ported to us seeking sanctuary from Lucius. If she could, she would have grabbed Draco, but he was at St. Mungo's for treatment. Managed to get some money out as well along with the dowry. She used a chunk of that to pay for my continued services to the Black family – and that was before we got a letter from Lord Black saying that Andromeda was once again part of the Black family. Once this is all over, we are changing our names to Black for business benefits."

Andromeda glared at her husband while Sirius tried to register what he heard as his brain froze for the third time in the last few minutes. Noticing his wife's glare, Ted back peddled, "And because it's the right thing to do – family _is_ important."

Andromeda nodded, "Good – you are finally learning."

Sirius sat there, staring at the trio in front of him. "But… didn't Narcissa hate me? I was the family white sheep."

Amelia raised her brow, "White sheep?"

Sirius smiled, "We were the Black's – can't get a black sheep from that family."

Andromeda smiled as Amelia tried her best not to snicker, "Nissa never hated you. If anything, she was too young to ever understand why you were kicked out of the family to go live with Dorea."

"Nissa?"

"Her nickname – she preferred to go by it since she hated being associated with the Greek myth of Narcissus."

"Ah," nodded Sirius in understanding, "Continue."

Andromeda gathered her breath, centering herself, "You know our father was a bastard of the highest caliber right?"

Sirius chuckled, "Don't remind me. There is a reason why Arcturus made me the next head instead of Cygnus. Guess third time _isn't_ the charm."

"Right… Bad jokes regarding names aside… Our dad was also stupid and short-sighted as they come. I never understood what my mother Druella saw in him."

"She was a Rosier, Andromeda. They may have been lower class, but she was a pure-blood who was fancied by him. The family had no choice when a wedding offer was made."

"Well, in any case, around the time that Voldemort started gathering allies, Daddy dearest thought it was an excellent opportunity to solidify some alliances. And lo and behold, all three of his daughters were married off to the highest bidder via marriage contracts."

Sirius nodded, "Who were you supposed to marry?"

"Don't remember – I didn't care. The minute I heard the deal was about to be made, I pissed off Walburga and got myself disowned from the Black family when I married Ted."

Ted smiled, "I still believe that it was the best day of my life when she showed up at my door, wet from the rain, carrying her bags, asking me if she could stay."

Sirius did some quick math, "Wait, was that when…"

"Yes, that was the day I believe Nymphadora was conceived."

Sirius put out his fist as he smiled, "Wait, are fist bumps still a thing?"

Ted bumped his fist, "They never died."

Amelia and Andromeda sighed, "Boys. All of you men are boys in adult bodies."

"Hey, remembering my childhood is what kept me sane here," defended Sirius.

"Oh," smirked Amelia, "It wasn't your Animagius form?"

"Same difference."

"Anyway," interrupted Andromeda. "Suffice to say, Dad left some rather loose terms in the marriage contracts in return for greater inclusions in Voldemort little Death Eaters club."

Sirius nodded, "That would explain why Bellatrix never gave birth to the next Lestrange – Rodolphus could only keep it up for Rabastan. Why else did he allow Bella to basically be Voldemort's sex slave?"

Ted stared in shock after hearing that little nugget of information, "Oh sweet Merlin, its House Lannister in real life."

Amelia and Sirius looked at Ted in confusion. "You ever get some time, I am introducing you both to a Muggle writer by the name of George R. R. Martin. Be warned – he toys with the reader's heart."

"He's not lying," said Andromeda dejectedly – she was introduced to the series by Ted – but continued, "In any case, it was slightly better for Nissa as she only had to give Lucius an heir. After that, she only kept up appearances."

Amelia looked in confusion, "But… her behavior, her support for blood-purity…"

"Think long and hard, Amelia. She was never a Death Eater, she rarely appeared in public, and when she did, she always wore long sleeves. You think it was just house-elves that Lucius mistreated? There's a reason why 'Malfoy' means 'Bad Faith' in French," spoke Ted in a dangerous and threatening tone for the first time, "I am surprised there aren't any Malfoy bastards running around the red-light district after all these years – unless of course, he killed them off…"

That left a sour taste in everyone's mouth. "You think we could use it against him?"

"Don't bother," spoke Sirius after finishing the bottle. "Lucius was always good with mind magics – I wouldn't be surprised that Narcissa was only aware of the beatings because of the bruises he never bothered to heal."

Sirius sighed in resignation, "In any case, we can only thank Merlin that Narcissa is finally free from that monster – probably another reason why he kept me in here. So… all the Blacks that matter are back on the family tree."

Amelia nodded, "All except Draco, but I doubt he will ever be sane again. Could probably add the Weasley's back in through Arthur, but I heard nothing about that. Should probably look into that."

Sirius smiled viciously, "Good. Don't know what happened to Draco but karma seemed to have caught up to Lucius. So besides being named Harry's guardian, was anything else left to me in the will?"

"One-hundred thousand galleons and property in Italy by Lake Trasimeno."

"Good – I'll need some start off capital to set the Black financial affairs back in order."

"Actually," spoke Amelia, "Griphook informed me that the acting Lord Black is already looking into it and correcting the oversights made since the passing of the former Lord. Apparently, they are allowing it since the goblins own _him_ a favor."

"Are you serious?" asked Ted and Amelia in unison.

"No, I am Sirius."

The three had looked at a smirking Sirius before they started laughing from his bad joke.

When they finally stopped, Amelia asked, "Anything you need to get off your chest before we get you to 's for treatment, Sirius?"

Sirius started to ponder, "There is one thing I have to ask before we continue."

Sirius turned to Amelia, "Can we reschedule our date since I missed the last one? I mean, I was incarcerated for the last decade."

Amelia's eyes started to tear up, "Sirius… If I had known, I would have done anything… I mean, I was told..."

"Don't punish yourself Amelia – there is a _very_ good chance that a spell and a potion or two was involved in initially convincing you that I was responsible for what I supposedly did. Even if you _had_ known, Lucius would have done everything in his power to either get you fired or killed, and that would have left Susan all alone at the mercy of the other Houses. You have to understand, this was most likely the biggest wizard machination that occurred since Roanoke Colony in the 16th century."

Amelia looked in shock, "The Black's were involved in that?"

Sirius shrugged, "It was actually the Prewett's. A big chunk of them ran off to the colonies after the head at the time incurred a debt of some sort to us. Why do you think they died off? The few that were left in Britain sold off what they could. I mean, they recovered financially after some time, but their numbers never recovered – kept having only girls for heirs."

"Huh," spoke Ted without thinking, "That explains why they married into other families. You learn something new every day."

* * *

Night has fallen upon Hogwarts as certain teachers met up in the Headmaster's office for an emergency meeting.

"So it's true Albus? There was, in fact, a Potter Will?"

"Indeed there was, Minerva. It seems that only Sirius Black could have accessed it as he was the boy's Godfather."

" **Godfather? But we were never told…"**

"I can only deduce that it happened in private without the rest of us knowing. We only _assumed_ he wasn't Godfather by ritual since he was supposedly their Secret Keeper."

" **But Flitwick… We were so close…"** Hagrid spoke horridly as he tried to prevent the tears from coming.

"I assumed so as well," spoke Flitwick as he glared daggers at Dumbledore, "but even the Great and Powerful Albus Dumbledore couldn't be informed of the eligibility of those who could have become Harry's guardian."

"FLITWICK!" shouted McGonagall in shock at her friend's words.

"You weren't at the hearing Minerva – I heard what James wrote regarding Albus. And guess what? The fact that he came back a day after me proves that he keeps secrets and does things behind our backs…"

Albus stared at his Charms Professor in shock, "Flitwick, please, I was only…"

"Save it, Albus. I warned you years ago that you were too soft-handed in your efforts in equality for all magical kind. Half of Harry's possible guardians were removed because we were halflings! Even Snape was considered as a potential guardian!"

Snape was not present at the reading of the will, unlike Flitwick, so hearing that he was actually considered as Harry's guardian - despite his history with Lily and James - actually cracked through his Occlumency strengthened emotional walls. "I…was?"

"Indeed you were, Severus. In fact, the only friends and family not written as possible guardians were Minerva because Lily thought she was busy enough as it is and Albus because James thought he kept too many secrets. And seeing as how _someone_ requested we set up those traps on the third floor, I am starting to suspect that as well. You prepared the Fidelius Charm for them, Albus, how did you not know…"

"I only made the ritual for the spell," interrupted Dumbledore with a raised voice, "I was not involved in the actual choosing of the Secret Keeper. I was convinced that it was Sirius just like the rest of you."

"You were the Chief Warlock at the time, Albus," spoke Minerva in anger, her nerve regained, "You could have called for a trial."

"I THOUGHT A TRIAL TOOK PLACE!" shouted Albus. "We were still recovering, Minerva. It was Barty who led the trials against the Death Eaters – I was at the IWC ensuring that no one interfered or took in any Death Eater who tried to escape from our borders. I never looked too deeply into it afterward since I thought he _was_ responsible."

" **But Albus, he was James's closest friend – they were brothers in all but blood! How could you even consider that?"**

Albus sighed, "I assumed the worst, Hagrid. Voldemort knew the foulest of magics and his proficiency in the Unforgivable Curses was well-documented. Sirius was strong Hagrid, but all men have their breaking point. I thought he was driven to insanity and willingly joined Voldemort's side."

Minerva anger rose up again, "Then you are a worse judge of character than I recalled Albus."

Before Albus had the chance to rebuttal, Minerva turned to Flitwick, "Was anything left to us in the Potter Will?"

Flitwick regained his nerve as he sat back down in his specialty conjured chair, "Yes, yes… To you, Minerva, they left one hundred thousand galleons, copies of their Transfiguration Grimoires, and a gift certificate to Mythos Tomes. Lily also left you a loving message as an Apprentice to her Mistress."

A smile appeared on McGonagall's face as Flitwick turned to Hagrid, "To you, they left one hundred and fifty thousand galleons as well as copies of their Magical Creature guides and tomes. James also left you a message reminding you that you were sturdier than most in handling creatures. So, just… be careful when you _do_ become a teacher."

Hagrid chuckled, " **James… He always said that I kept forgetting my strength… the number of times I cracked one of Sirius's ribs when I hugged him…"**

Flitwick smiled as he turned to Severus, "To you, they left two hundred thousand galleons and a copy of their Potion Grimoire. There was also a message of forgiveness from James and Lily that I think you should read in private," Flitwick reached into his pocket and took out a sealed letter, "This is the copy of the Will – figured you would want to read it in is full when you get the chance."

Severus, after regaining his known stoic composure, carefully pocketed the letter as Flitwick regained his anger, "And for you Albus, they left nothing. For me, they left the same things as Minerva but with copies of their Charms collection. Which if you don't mind, I have to go and organize in my office."

Albus started getting up, "Flitwick…"

"Be quiet, Albus. I am currently not in the mood to talk with you. Give me a few days to think about what happened at that hearing."

As Flitwick left the Headmaster's office, Hagrid followed in turn, " **Let me talk with him – maybe I can get him to calm down."**

Albus nodded as the giant of a man left. He turned to his Headmistress, "Minerva…"

"I really don't care anymore. The past is in the past – there is nothing we can do to change it. We can only accept it and move on. Now, if you don't mind, I too have to go and organize what was left behind to me by the Potters."

Snape waited for Minerva to exit the room before turning to the Headmaster, "You really didn't know?"

"No," spoke Albus in pain as he put his head into his hands in shame. "I spent all day yesterday making inquiries and trying to figure out how this was buried so well and how Harry got to the will."

"Yes… the missing Potter…" pondered Snape worryingly.

"Something the matter, Severus?"

"More like a nagging feeling in the back of my mind."

Albus looked up, "That is not like you, Severus. You were never one for gut-feelings."

"Not much of a feeling, but more like I am overlooking something… I feel like I am part of a spider-web which has finally begun making waves by a _very_ patient spider in its center."

"This worries you?"

"Yes. It should worry you as well – Harry Potter managed to destroy the balance of power within the Wizengamot in one swift move, one that may have literally been in the making for months, maybe even years."

"Years?"

Severus nodded, "Griphook only mentioned that Harry laid claim to his vaults a few months back through the main branch. He never said if it was the _first_ time if he was at that branch of even that bank. Harry could have know about the will for years and simply waited for an opportunity to present itself."

Albus finally gazed in worry at Severus, "You heard something."

"On the contrary, Albus. I have heard _NOTHING._ Not from Lucius, not from the underground… everyone has gone silent."

"Then they have felt it."

Severus tilted his head, "Felt it? Felt what, Albus?"

"A void in the balance of power, if it were. The silence was the players of Britain testing the new waters, deciding when to fill in the power vacuum."

"Backroom politics?"

Albus nodded, "More or less. Even after spending a day exploring the turbulent waters, I was no closer to figuring out the shifts that were to come. I can only wait till Sirius get's his hearing and claims back the title of Lord Black."

Severus frowned at that – despite his efforts, he still can't forgive Sirius – and pushed on, "And Fudge?"

"Fudge will most likely be removed from power. It all depends whether or not he gets backing from the Dark Families, but seeing as how Lucius has been – and pardon my language – declawed as it were due to the removal of the Black dowry, he has less to work with."

"Indeed," agreed Severus in turn, "then there's the fact he has most likely lost his heir – another factor that worries me. This all came out all too neat and tidy for my tastes, however; everything went wrong for Lucius, all on the same day?"

"True. Griphook mentioned that Harry modified his plans only a week ago, right around the time that Draco fell ill. Do you think that Harry is in this school or has a spy informing him of what is going on in these walls?"

Severus considered that for a moment, but his thought seemed to return to the same person every time. _MacLeod…_

"I can't speak with certainty. The heirs have been trained in Occlumency, meaning that I have to catch them off-guard to get anything out of them. The half-bloods and Muggle-born don't seem to be hiding anything. I need more time to go through the 1st years before I recheck the older years."

Albus nodded, "That is fair. The year has only started, so we have time to go through them all."

Severus looked up in his version of shock, "You will scan the students?"

Albus raised his hand, "Passively, of course. I still don't know how Voldemort plans to get to the stone."

"Do you still think that the vision Sybill had before the year started has any merit?"

"While I still do doubt Divination as a branch of magic, you have no choice to accept the fact that all her visions have come true. Then there is her prophecy…"

"Right," chuffed Severus, "the only vision she had that didn't require her being piss-drunk that still hasn't passed."

Albus sighed in defeat, "I recommended to you time and again to make a potion that will allow her to enter her subconscious without the aid of alcohol…"

"And I told you, time and time again, that her grasp of reality is weak enough as it is – no need to accelerate it with the addition of half-baked concoctions, even if they are made by me."

"Too true. In any case, we will have to wait for something to happen before making a move."

Severus pondered for a moment, "The trial?"

"Yes… as my Muggle-born students were fond of saying, we have wait and see where the cards will fall."

Severus agreed as he started to leave the office, he turned one last time, "When is the trial?"

"The 12th."

An eyebrow raised, "Full moon? Would that hinder Remus as a character witness – if he decides to come?"

"We can only wait and see. We have an odd month this time around – four days of the full moon starting on the 10th."

"Yes… we shall see…" whispered Severus as he left the office to go organize his new acquisitions.

* * *

The shouting and chaos that was heard from the Malfoy Mansion were something the neighbors would recall for some time.

The spells that were shot out the windows didn't help.

The fury that felt on this day was beyond anything he has ever left in his life.

He had lost much on this day: his wife, his son, his money, the Black fortune.

 _No… The Black estate is still within my grasp… Bellatrix is already out of the way… I just have to kill Sirius, and the fortune would still go to Draco if I correctly manipulate Wizengamot… I mean, Harry Potter hasn't been seen in years; how can the fortunes of the Noble and Ancient House of Black be passed on without even seeing who would get them? And if Harry does choose to reveal himself, well… he can be finally eliminated… but what about the trial? I still doubt that Sirius's has enough votes to avoid being sent back to Azkaban… Not unless he gets Dumbledore as a witness to get him off… Unless Albus can be eliminated… the trial is on the 12_ _th_ _… ahh, the full moon comes on the 10_ _th_ _… Draco is already out of the school and in St. Mungo's… I need to message Fenrir and his pack to get them to the Highlands as soon as possible…_

What Lucius didn't know at the time nor until long after the trial, was that the acting Lord Black took Andromeda back into the family and disowned Bellatrix instead. Since this was done in private – with only the family and Amelia Bones being aware of it – Lucius didn't know that he would have had to kill Andromeda as well to ensure that Draco had a chance at the fortune through Narcissa. He was also not aware that Sirius, as the future returning Lord Black, could also ensure that the title would pass on to Harry since he was a Black and he was his Godfather via ritual.

Unfortunately, rage has a way of clouding even the most logical and coherent of minds in times of high stress.

Things always fall through the cracks…

The dominoes always fall in the most unexpected of ways…

* * *

Professor McGonagall was still fuming from her talk with Albus. She knew that leaving Harry with his relatives was a bad idea, but in all fairness, she couldn't recall how he managed to convince her that there were no other options. Granted, he claimed that he warded the home to keep them safe.

 _And yet he still didn't know that Harry was being tortured by his aunt and uncle. Of all the arrogance! Even if someone managed to hijack those words, he should have felted if they had stopped working properly. I mean, of all the incompetence…_

McGonagall's train of thought stopped when she saw a pile of letters on the floor in front of her office.

 _What in Merlin?_

After performing a quick scan for poisons and hexes – expecting it to be some sort of prank from the twins – she quickly levitated the pile on her desk. Not sure what to make of it, she picked one at random, opened it up, and began reading it. Her eyes bulged at what was written.

It took her over an hour to go through them all. All letters contained a message along the same vein: apologies from the Gryffindor House. It wasn't all of them, but it was a significant chunk of them, more so from the later years. Some talked about their faults in losing house points over their poor choices. Others talked about how they had misjudged her due to her 'inattentiveness.' Another chunk apologized of not understanding the amount of responsibilities she had in total as a teacher, Head of House, a Deputy Headmistress, and - to her shock – as some put it, Albus's personal assistant. All letters, however, contained the sentiment that she was overworking herself by taking over responsibilities that Albus should be doing as Headmaster of Hogwarts.

 _Of all the things… If it weren't for the suddenness of it all, this would be considered sweet. But why today?..._ _ **THE DAILY PROPHET!**_ _It said that Harry Potter hated Albus for leaving him with his relatives. They don't know what was said at the hearing, but they know it was bad… But why do they think Albus is dumping work off on me? I mean, yes, he asks me to do things sometimes, but he is a busy man. He has to be, as the Headmaster, Supreme Mugwump, and Chief Warlock of… Oh… I guess he is stretched a little thin… But what can he do, he IS Albus Dumbledore, it's not like anything can really change… If he abandons the posts, they will quickly be filled by possible supporters of blood-purity… or even worse – former Death Eaters or their supporters…_

* * *

 _Some legends are told_

 _Some turn to dust or to gold_

 _But you will remember me_

 _Remember me for centuries_

 _And just one mistake_

 _Is all it will take_

 _We'll go down in history_

 _Remember me for centuries… (11)  
_

Harry hummed to himself as he enjoyed a book discussing the limitations of certain charms. He wasn't really into it, as he spends most of the time observing the magical energies in Gryffindor Tower ebb and web from their norm. He couldn't help but chuckle at the seeds of doubt he had placed within the minds of the students. Who knew it would be so easy to tumble the great legacy of Albus Dumbledore by simply saying he hated the man? Honestly, how could anyone hate a man they never met? He put the Dursley's and everything relating to them behind him a long time ago. He didn't know if Albus did, in fact, leave a letter for his aunt – may she burn in Hell – but logic dictated that he must have when he dropped him off at their home all those years ago.

In all honesty, Harry targeted Albus because he believed he had been in a high position of power too long with nothing to show for it. Being the so called "Boy-Who-Lived" made it easier. The fact he managed to free his godfather, restore the Black name, get rid of the Minister, AND screw over Draco's father made it _SO_ much sweeter.

That made it… six birds with one stone? Doesn't really matter – Gabriel and Crowley would be proud of him.

Now all he had to do was wait for the outcome of the trial on the 12th. After smiling at everything he managed to accomplish within these school walls, he went back to quietly humming within the Gryffindor Common Room.

 _I'm in the de-details with the devil_

 _So now the world can never get me on my level_

 _I just gotta get you out of the cage_

 _I'm a young lover's rage_

 _Gonna need a spark to ignite_

 ** _My songs know what you did in the dark… (11)  
_**

* * *

 **So, what do you all think? Rather loaded chapter world-building wise, isn't? Hopefully, I left enough bread crumbs for the readers to figure out the direction of which I will take the story.**

 **Until my next posting, I hope everyone has a great day.**

* * *

 **(1) Sudan is the one of the worlds largest exporter of sheep, so Remus living there as a herder made sense, both for financial and safety reasons.**

 **(2) Yeah… I needed a valid reason to explain why in the world of magic – where people can literally make anything happen – there could be such a thing as classes based on wealth. Power and family history – sure, but wealth? They have the power to rebuild a destroyed New York City in what looked like minutes; I don't even want to begin to start looking up the logistics and how many actual jobs and manhours it would require to do that.**

 **(3) Yes… YES… _baste the paranoia turkey!_**

 **(4) Always wanted there to be a Death Eater in hiding in the other houses (like Peter) but it's a tossup at this point. Although a good backstabbing makes a story so much more interesting. Strangely hoping its Cho for some reason. OH, OH! Maybe I'll make it Clearwater – it would be such delicious irony. Cruel irony, but tasty nonetheless.**

 **(5) Again, never addressed in the books. I don't care if the titles are ceremonial or something, unless he has a freaking time-turner, THREE IS TOO MANY!**

 **(6) I like McGonagall, I really do. I gave her an out. She is not a bitch – she is just tired.**

 **(7) Is Edward a Jewish name? Just curious, because Tonks definitely doesn't sound like it.**

 **(8) You know, I seriously feel like I left myself WAY too many breadcrumbs to work with if I ever get bored.**

 **(9) Yeah, I should address this. I don't care of Sirius never took anything seriously – he was of the House of Black, no way they didn't teach him everything he needed to know about blackmailing, bribery, and backdoor politics before he abandoned his family. I see him as lazy, not stupid. Naïve maybe, but I think that's all gone now thanks to Azkaban.**

 **(10) I have yet to see a fanfiction make reference of this but I will give JKR brownie points for writing him out as such.**

 **(11) The songs used in the end are both by Fall Out Boy – 'Centuries' and 'My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark'.**


	21. Least Played Playlist

**Chapter 21: Least Played Playlist  
**

* * *

 _October 10_ _th_ _, 2011 - Afternoon_

It was an odd week after the bombshells that Harry dropped off on the unsuspecting Wizarding World. He actually expected there to be a bigger fallout from what he caused in Wizengamot, but as far as he could tell, nothing really changed.

Well… Maybe nothing on the surface.

It was times like these in which Harry had to write his thoughts out that unnerved him. Despite having a sophisticated mental palace with all the _time_ he put into it (1), he was still unable to accurately analyze his emotions or ideas that seemed to try to connect to things he couldn't understand. How the elderly and powerful organized all the information in their pretty little heads stumped him at times. Unless of course, the wizards had something that allowed them to physically view memories at their own convenience - but Harry didn't like to think such foolish thoughts. (2)

In any case, it was in theses circumstances that he resorted to the long time and tradition honed tool of writing out his thoughts on paper and thinking them through on his own.

He liked to start from the immediate and micro and progress outward to the macro…

" _Friends are first,"_ thought Harry, realizing at that particular moment that he had friends. It caused him to smile in his little corner of the Common Room.

In that regard, he quickly wrote down Neville and Hermione. Nothing really regarding the two. Hermione was still the leading 1st year for her house in grades and points, which earned her favor. Enough for some Prefect to finally get the nerve and finally sit her down and tell her straight to the face about certain truths of the Wizarding World that she - as a Muggle-born - was unaware of. It was mostly etiquette and behavior that Muggle-born took for granted, but on some level insulted the prim and proper Pure-bloods that were insulated in their outdated world beliefs. However, Harry knew otherwise: she was being warned.

Harry didn't know which Prefect told Hermione the truth, but if he ever found out, he would thank him or her – most likely her. It was probably a Half-blood, but Harry was just hopeful. In any case, Hermione was warned that her blood status would make her progression in the world _**very**_ difficultafter Hogwarts. Unless, of course, she knew people or married into a high ranking family. While this is still done in the 'normal' world occasionally – okay, more than occasionally, considered Harry – it was a common tactic for witches. Hell, for most families, Hogwarts was basically a place for them to find their future husbands and somehow tie the knot. I mean, they are locked in a single location for almost ¾ of the year with access to magic, potions, and – worse comes to worse – sexual gratification.

Suffice to say, Hermione was not even aware of this – the 'husband search,' not backroom deals. She was mindful of the fact that some girls kept calling her names for being stuck up and a know it all – something Harry and Neville were trying to train out of her – but she just ignored them as she was already used to it from when she went to primary school. Now, she realized, it was because of how close she was to Neville and Harry. In any case, Hermione accepted the message, started reading some book on Pure-blood etiquette, and basically ignored the screeching of the harpies. Harry did hear her mumble once that she would 'change it all when she became Minister.' Already aware of the girl's stubbornness as well as her intelligence, Harry chuckled at the fact that it would happen eventually.

Regardless, Harry could understand why other girls were jealous of how close she was to Neville. Heir and future Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, one the oldest and richest families in Britain - if not the world - by pure history if Harry understood properly. Granted, they were currently crippled due to lack of family members and the fact that the current representative was Neville's Gran. However, if the tales Griphook told Harry about Augusta Longbottom were any indication, she was a force to be reckoned with, despite the sweet yet stern grandmother visage she presented in the picture Harry saw on Neville's nightstand.

There was also the little fact that no one really knew what she did in the time period from finishing Hogwarts to when she took up her son's Frank's seat at Wizengamot when he was _admitted_ to St. Mungo's with his wife years ago. And Harry really tried to find the info, even with the help of the goblins. Unfortunately, the lack of evidence made him seriously consider that she may have been an Unspeakable, like Neville's Uncle Algie. Supposedly, the higher-up you get in the Department of Mysteries, the more rituals one undergoes to magically remove any connections the person may have to said position. To Harry, that seemed like a modified Fidelius Charm – something he read in an advanced textbook as a footnote – that could actually be removed when one left the Department. But by that reasoning, the Head of said department would theoretically not exist since any knowledge of him - or her - would be removed from the Wizarding World to make sure their family and friends would be safe and untouched. That, or they would actually be on the other end of the spectrum and be openly known as an Unspeakable to avoid suspicion. Harry scoffed at that particular though, as he couldn't imagine someone Algie being the Head of the Department of Mysteries. But then again…

" _I am getting off topic here. Maybe there is a lack of evidence to support the notion that Augusta was a high ranking Unspeakable. On the other hand, the saying does go 'Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see,' and the lack of evidence I am seeing supports the notion."_

Regardless of that, Neville was still a 'catch' to the girls. Granted, he was young and pudgy, but Harry suspected he would grow into his form when he hit puberty and lost the baby fat. The fact that he was slowly gaining confidence and improving scholastically with his new wand was a small factor. His calm and kind demeanor, open mindedness, and lack of the more extreme Gryffindor traits were definitely the bigger contributors to his likable personality.

That he enjoyed gardening and cared greatly for his grandmother – huge no-no for the 'male card' – made him more desirable for the girls who looked for that.

That the girls were jealous of Hermione's association with _him_ surprised him even more. He honestly didn't know what others saw in him that was desirable. He would look into that later when he got more female friends. Speaking of which…

After the discussion they had a week ago, Susan Bones joined their little trio alongside her friend Hannah Abbott. Hannah, in turn, brought her friends Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernest Macmillan.

" _Interesting folks Susan introduced me to,_ " pondered Harry.

Susan Bones looked remarkably similar to her aunt, although Harry could just associate that to family genes and the like. Still, she had an unusual quality to her, akin to dedicated focus if the term applied. But if she wanted to follow her aunt's footsteps in the DMLE, who was Harry to stop her? In any case, she could serve as a great study partner for the required Hogwarts classes, since Auror's needed 'Outstanding' or "Exceeds Expectations' in Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms for N.E.W.T.s.

Harry still couldn't help chuckling at the silly acronyms wizards came up with.

Her trio of Hufflepuffs were fascinating as well.

Hannah Abbott was a Half-blood who was a little more mellow than Susan; not head-in-the-clouds but calm enough to counteract her razor sharp focus. Appearance wise, not much to say: pink-faced with blond pigtails. She did seem a little naïve at times and is prone to making mistakes when under pressure. She does, however, appear to possess a gift at Herbology, even if her lack of self-confidence makes her struggle at times.

Harry paused. " _Note to self: get Neville and Hannah to become friends over their love of Herbology."_

Maybe it was time for Harry to try playing Cupid…

Ernest Macmillan - or Ernie as he preferred to be called by his friends - was part of the Macmillan family, one the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Thankfully, the stout-looking boy of blondish hair wasn't as pompous as Harry expected him to be. Granted, his high academic standing in the Hufflepuff House gave him some leeway. And, if Susan's hints weren't exaggerating, he was a Pure-blood with no prejudice regarding blood status who wasn't afraid to speak his mind nor afraid to admit he was wrong. Quite a rarity indeed in this backward world.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was an odd little duck, or finch as his name implied. Supposedly from a branch of a high-standing British family with close ties to royalty, him being a Muggle-born threw a wrench into his families workings. He claimed it only infuriated his mother, as she planned to send him to some prim and proper public school called Eton too start making connections early on. Unfortunately – or luckily, according to Justin – his a mother, a Dutchess, suffered some kind of animal attack a while back and died (3). Thankfully, many shared the same opinion regarding Justin's mother, who, in the kindest of words, was a 'bitch of the highest caliber.' Many a crocodile tears were shed at her funeral. Luckily, his father was much more suited as a parent and as such, still carried his title and continued with the 'family business' as it were – with his wife's parents blessing, of course. The fact that he allowed Justin to go to Hogwarts and accepted his wizard heritage was just gravy in his book.

" _Huh,"_ reminisced Harry, " _Didn't Dad make a deal a while back regarding a Dutchess? Oh well, not important…"_

Harry did find it slightly ironic that if it weren't for Susan and Tonks, he would be associated with two trios of mixed blood statuses: Hermione and Justin for Muggle-born, Hannah and him for Half-blood, and Neville and Ernest for Pure-bloods.

Weird.

Speaking of weird… Tonks – or Tonks Black, as she liked to joke now – was on friendly speaking terms with Harry. Despite him being a first year and her being a seventh year, they seemed to get along just fine. They didn't share classes or anything, but they chatted during meals. It was nice; she told him some secrets about the school that only higher years knew, and he told her some stuff about the Muggle world she would need to know if she ever became an Auror. Which was definitely in her future, seeing as she was a Metamorphmagus, had high grades, and was now a Black. If she was a Prefect it may have helped ease the process, but as she liked to joke, her Head of House believed she lacked 'certain necessary qualities,' which Harry found out was the ability to behave herself.

She was aces in Harry's book.

Harry stopped to ponder his list of friends so far, " _Huh…only Hufflepuff… Don't I have friends in my own House?"_

Harry started to look around the Common Room of the Gryffindor Tower, allowing his Sight to bleed through a little to locate the people he couldn't see at the moment.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were sitting in one corner of the room working on their Transfiguration assignment. Why they needed to since they were already getting 'Outstanding' in the class was beyond him. On closer inspection, he saw that Seamus was asking Dean to help him out with a banner for the first Gryffindor Quidditch match. Based on the outline Dean already made, it was going to be a large Gryffindor lion. Based on the scribblings on the side, Seamus was going to provide some form of pyrotechnics. Harry considered for a second if they were friends or not. Were they close? Sure, they worked well together in their classes, and they had no animosity regarding him still technically being a Slytherin. Although they were both half-bloods raised as Muggles, so that could be a factor. In any case, they had potential to be friends, but it was too soon to tell.

Harry noted how close they were to each other as they scribbled on the banner. Harry pondered for a second, " _Are they… No, they are too young to realize it… Or is it subconscious on their part?_ " Harry noted their appearances. Dean's had dark skin – he was of African descent - dark hair and tall. The long neck was a little odd, but maybe he would grow into it one day. Seamus was paler and had sandy colored hair, with burns and bruises all over his visible body, probably from his magic and his love of flying. Both were rather easy-going and good-natured and both representative of Gryffindor bravery and loyalty, even if Seamus took a while to be sorted by the hat. " _Note to self – wait till later years to see if they end up in a closet together. Remove this note if either one starts dating a girl and chalk it up to being raised by Crowley and Gabriel who claim to see the subtext in every interaction."_

Harry shook his head to clear that particular image from his skull. He continued looking around to see if he was close with anyone else in the house beyond acquaintances. He finally caught the sight of the Weasley Twins in the corner writing something without exchanging any words. Harry already suspected that they shared some sort of mental link with each other which aided in their pranking endeavors; whether or not they use it to cheat on exams was debatable.

Harry felt rather odd about the twins. His school surveillance system – " _Note to self – make a better name for your network, probably an acronym" –_ already caught their excursions in and out of the school over the last few weeks, significantly adding to his personal map network. Ironic phrasing, seeing as the twins seemed to be using some kind of map to aid them. It eased Harry's tension knowing that someone else had a similar idea as to how to traverse and take advantage of Hogwarts wards and magics. Harry was already somewhat aware that they downplayed their intelligence, seeing as how their pranks and tricks were very advanced in magic skill, so them making a map like this wasn't that big of a stretch.

In any case, what threw him off about them is how hard they tried to find a way to talk to him by accident. Were they afraid to make it seem like they were interested in him for some sort of reason? They didn't appear to have a judgemental bone in their bodies. Maybe they want to work together with him on pranks – the stunts he pulled off could be considered as such of one degree or another. Maybe they want to be friends with him for safety from his 'pranks.' Maybe they want to have an assistant who could perform pranks on their behalf so they could confuse the teachers and staff as to who committed them. I mean, granted, they pranked their brother Percy from time to time, but they were always harmless in nature. Percy was a stickler for the rules, but he didn't have any prejudices nor did he abuse his position of power. Sure he was family to the twins…

Harry paused. " _Of course, family…"_

Harry stared at the other corner of the room to see the youngest, trying to play Wizard Chess with another Gryffindor. Trying, since he spends more time watching the clock, waiting for dinner to start, rather than on the game itself. Harry didn't get along with Ron at all, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Despite the fact that the Weasley's were a commonly known 'Light' family, as it were – despite the fact that their patriarch was technically a Black by blood, which Harry discovered as acting Lord of the family –, Ron still managed to display stereotyping and bigotry commonly associate with 'Black' families (4). Except in his case, however, rather than hating Muggle-born and Half-bloods, Ron was against everything Slytherin and anything that even had a hint of Dark Magic associated with it.

Now based on what Harry could gather from the older years and some of the teachers – primarily Hagrid from later hut meetings – none of the other Weasley's displayed such tendencies. Well, no Weasley per say. If the hints Professor McGonagall gave Harry were any indication, Molly Weasley née Prewett was a rather… opiniated witch. Was she a good, caring mother and matriarch of the Weasley clan? Yes. Did she raise very successful boys? Yes, with Bill and Charlus as acting examples: one worked as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, another at a dragon sanctuary as a Dragonologist.

On the other hand, though, did she manage to mother-hen her eldest two so much that one ran away to Egypt and the other to Romania? Yes. Did she constantly push her husband into getting a promotion at work, despite their current financial stability, something Harry believed would not have been possible if he hadn't 'disappeared' years ago? Yes. Did she possibly cloud Ron's judgment regarding other families, as she was mostly left alone with him for the last two years to impart her views and opinions? Most definitely yes. Harry chalked it up to her being a Prewett trying to pass on her values and teaching to kids who didn't actually follow them vehemently.

Fred and George's apprehension to meet with Harry – a Slytherin in Ron's mind – was justified in this case. Harry had already seen what Howlers could do when the speaker had an average voice. He didn't want to know what a Molly Weasley Howler would sound like. For now, Harry decided to find a way to meet the two in secret without Ron finding out. Percy was debatable – he was already used to the twins behavior, and he didn't say anything after the stunt Harry pulled, so Harry doubted he would care if he became an accomplice of the twins.

Harry finished looking around the tower, realizing that he didn't really have anyone else he considered close. He was liked and friendly with everyone, but for the life of him he couldn't recall anyone else name – and he had an almost perfect recall, so that was saying something. It seemed pathetic to him, so this was something he definitely needed to resolve. " _Note to self – make more friends and/or acquaintances. Be on first name basis with every Gryffindor by the end of the year (except for maybe Ron)."_

Speaking of friends, Harry felt a little worried for Hermione. She was all alone by herself in the Ravenclaw House. How anyone could be insulted for being too smart and too much of a know-it-all in the House of intelligence and learning was beyond him. Well, maybe not entirely. She was on speaking terms with Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot. She was definitely friends with Padma Patil.

Harry paused for a second. Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, and Padma Patil – another trio of mixed blood. " _A trifecta of trios. Odd…"_

From what he gathered from her Gryffindor twin, she was the less outgoing and more studious one. In Harry's opinion, she was a perfect Pure-blood to get Hermione introduced to the politics of the Wizarding World – they had a long history to back up their claims in Britain, but they had stronger roots in their native India, meaning she could provide her an informed outside view of how the world worked. In any case, Harry was more worried about the looks some of other Raneclaw girls gave her from time to time during the meals. He has been particularly wary of one by the name of Marietta Edgecombe: her aura regularly flared with hatred and jealousy when directed at Hermione, something Harry couldn't really understand about her since she was in a higher year than her. It only made sense after he realized that Neville was a 'catch' for the female community in the school and how close he was to Hermione.

" _Note to self – modify surveillance system to follow specific individuals and find a way to mark Hermione FOR HER SAFETY."_

Now for the Slytherin House. As far as Harry could tell, there was still chaos in the House of Snakes ever since Draco was removed from the school by Lucius a week ago. Didn't really know or care what happened to him, but supposedly, he was still at 's being treated for 'sudden onset of insanity.'.

Right…

In any case, someone by the name of Pansy Parkinson seemed to have adopted Crabbe and Goyle as her minions and became the new head of the Slytherin. Frankly, Harry didn't believe that – in a house of cunning and ambition, the true head would always work his or her agenda from the shadows and agents. It's kind of why Harry suspected that regardless of who was the actual perceived leader was, Snape would always be in charge – one way or another. (5)

At least, that's what Harry assumed.

Regardless, the aura that flared from the members of the Slytherin House was… odd. A big chunk of them, mainly the older years, displayed the tell tale signs of 'corruption.' In this case, it must have meant that they were stringent supporters of blood-purity and blood-supremacy. The younger years were still salvageable, or clean of influence. Some even seemed to indicate a desire to separate themselves from the 'herd.' Harry noted – over the last week or so – that three 1st years, in particular, flared a strong desire to cut-off any association with the more bigoted members of their House as soon as possible. If Harry remembered the Sorting correctly, their names were Blaise Zabini, Tracy Davis, and Daphne… Greengrass.

" _Crap. Better be careful with her. She is the last person who can possibly find out who I am. Still, I should find a way to reach out to them. But how should I proceed - in secret or openly? Questions for later."_

Harry went on with his list. " _Now for the staff, then the Ministry, then others…"_

Hogwarts staff… What's new to say? Everything has been quiet since the hearing for Sirius Black has been set, Dumbledore hasn't changed his routine, _Daily Prophet_ has been strangely silent…

" _Can't help but feel like the calm before the storm. But what exactly is the endgame? Who benefits if the trial fails?"_

Millicent Bagnold may have retired as Minister, but she was responsible for the lack of the trial for his Godfather. One way or another, she was going to be charged with something.

Bartemius Crouch Senior, ironically, would get away scot free. Despite being the Head of the DMLE during the war, he quit after the trial of his son, Junior. Sirius's trial had occurred in the brief period of time before Amelia took the position, in which emergency war time trials took place. He has only recently returned to the public as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation after separating himself from public eye for ten years. In essence, he had absolutely no ties to Black's imprisonment. Could he have done something if he stayed in office until the end of the First Wizarding War? It was possible, but Harry didn't like to think of what could have been.

Cornelius Fudge was definitely screwed: he visited Sirius in Azkaban, he hid the paperwork, he paid off people, etc. It would depend on how much they find in regards to his cover-ups and if he kept a ledger of some sort to assist in their investigation. Honestly, it's more likely than not that he had an accomplice to help keep track of everything. Unfortuanetly, since Fudge's records showed that he switched secretaries frequently – a fact that Harry hoped the DMLE would notice -, Harry had to peg it on someone who sought a position of power through him by being… helpful. From that train of thought, Harry found someone named Dolores Umbridge mentioned numerous times in the Ministry paperwork – the legally thrown out once: nothing illegal there, since the trash was for anyone taking. It's how goblins, despite their lack of interaction with the Ministry for the last few years, still managed to keep up with everything that happened behind those walls. Unfortunately, he didn't bother looking any further; the DMLE would focus on what they could link to Fudge, not the implied and possible.

Some Aurors and possibly lower ranking Ministry members that work – sorry, worked – for Fudge in some capacity would receive fines and penalties, a few would definitely end up in Azkaban.

Possible fall out?

None that Harry could figure out at the moment.

For the 'Light' side – or Dumbledore's side – a potential ally in the soon to be free Lord Black. Possible, but debatable, since Sirius would need to see a Mind Healer after spending so much time in Azkaban. For the 'Black' side – or the 'former' Death Eater side – is the loss of their puppet Minister via Lucius and his never ending pouch of money. On that matter, the loss of Lucius as their head also qualified since he was divorced, possibly heir-less, and significantly less wealthy. Possible replacement head? Harry had his money placed on Nott Senior, father of Theodore Nott, but that particular theory relied on the fact that he was an openly known 'former' Death Eater. In Harry's opinion, its more than likely that is a Death Eater who is still in hiding, somewhere high up in the Ministry hierarchy. Most likely the Department of Mysteries since their magics and rituals already limited whatever information came out of there. (6)

" _Put a pin in that theory for now."_

The 'Gray' side was a toss-up. Technically, they have no leader, but more often than not, Cyrus Greengrass worked as their mouthpiece while his wife Roxanne gathered information during their 'parties' and whatnot. Frankly, Harry believed that they had the right idea in regards as to how the Wizarding World should progress: more acceptance of Half-bloods and Muggleb-borns without removal of Pure-blood old world ideals and historical values. That may be a bit simplistic, but that is the fundamental idea that Harry got from reading their many, _many,_ **many** rejected proposals and legislature. Frankly, if it wasn't the overpowered 'Black' side rejecting their proposals outright, it was the 'Light' side trying to modify them to appease everyone. In the end, they have the power, they have the connections, but they lack the necessary votes to get anything worthwhile through the Wizengamot.

Harry put down the pen, ' _Something to consider: Sirius is probably disenfranchised with the 'Light,' he is definitely not 'Black,' and he will try to be supportive of my decisions – if he can find me of course."_ Harry tapped his chin with the pen, " _Should I seek him out? I mean, if he has Occulemncy shields that are strong enough, I guess I can tell him some stuff about me. Wear a mask? Would he accept the monster that I am? Again, questions for later."_

Monster… Harry should write back to Bobby to see if he managed to get out of Dad's Crossroads deal. It's likely since Crowley hasn't written him back for a while, but he was a moody bastard at times – even if loved him. The Winchester's were a different story. It was only recently that Sam and Dean's relatives died after the attack on the Campbell Compound by the Alpha Shapeshifter. Granted, based on what Dean has written about them, they were downright bastards who were set in their ways and could have handled the situation better. I mean seriously, 'sins of a father' could only go so far in regards to a baby Shapeshifter. That, and they were busy enough dealing with the angel civil war up in Heaven. Harry and Castiel have never seen eye to eye, but they could agree that Raphael was being a total douche-nosel. Balthazar, on the other hand, was a loose cannon: too powerful, too knowledgeable, with a horde of who knows how many Angel artifacts, who answers to no one.

Harry hasn't really bothered looking further into it with his Sight to make sure, but he wasn't willing to bet against Balthazar ending up dead by Crowley's hands. The why didn't matter, only the when. _"On that note, should really look into that civil war up in Heaven – God knows how that can end badly for us 'petty humans."_

Harry went over his list. Honestly, didn't seem like anything _should_ bother him about it and yet, it felt like he forgot something.

"Ah screw it – if I can't remember it, it's not important enough to be remembered."

As Harry put the pen down on the table, Crookshanks jumped onto his lap to be petted. "Yeah, yeah, I know – I am overthinking it, but can you blame me? It's two days before the trial, and unless Lucius plans something soon, the dynamic of the Wizarding World will shift drastically – and not in favor of the 'Black' families."

Harry looked at the clock on the wall. " _Dinner time is coming up soon. Should finish up my work."_

* * *

 _Slytherin Dungeon, About the same time…_

"Daphne, you have been on edge ever since Sirius Black received his trial date. What gives?"

"I know, Tracy, I know. But Daddy says that there is something that Black has access to - something only he can reach."

"Is it valuable?" Tracy looked at her long-time friend in worry.

"He won't say – all he will tell me is that Sirius Black must be proven innocent."

Tracy stared at her friend in confusion, "But I thought he was basically acquitted as it is."

Daphne shook her hand, "Daddy says that despite all the evidence, it will all come down to whoever has the biggest political pull. Malfoy is definitely going to try something soon, but he doesn't know what. I mean, Sirius is protected in the DMLE custody, his lawyer and his family is under guard, and Dumbledore is… well, Dumbledore. Unless he somehow gets rid of the evidence out of _GRINGOTTS_ of all places, the trial outcome is as good as set."

"So, what, the 'Gray' side isn't doing anything?"

Daphne shook her head, "Daddy has already sent agents out to assist Sirius in any way possible, but he kindly declined… For now at least."

Tracy pondered, "Just what exactly is Sirius sitting on that the 'Gray' side needs?"

"I don't know Tracy, but if Daddy's hints are anything to go by, he thinks its… world shattering."

* * *

 _Hours later, Mountains located in the Highlands of Scotland overlooking the loch_

Fenrir Greyback stood on top of the hill overlooking Hogwarts in his human form, his pack of werewolves at his side and call, growling, hungry for. Tonight's full moon wouldn't be as pure as the one that would arise two nights from now, but it's good enough to allow the change in even the weakest of lycanthropes.

Something that Lucius was all too happy to take advantage off.

Something else that Malfoy took advantage of was the werewolves resistance to certain magics. While not as high as say giant's resistance, it could be modified and improved upon with certain magics. It was because of this that Fenrir and his bunch were currently wearing certain amulets, just until they crossed the threshold onto Hogwarts soil. After which, well…

Fenrir smiled as he turned to his group and began to undress, "Remember, Lucius is paying us good money to go after Dumbledore. He is the primary target. If we can't reach him, we fall back onto the secondary objective."

His Beta turned and growled something.

"The number of students don't matter. All that matters is the fallout. If more people die then we infect, it doesn't matter. If we infect more than the amount we kill, well… Hogwarts is going to be missing a few students in the coming days."

The pack laughed as much as they could in their werewolf forms. Hogwarts hasn't accepted a student with lycanthropy in all of its history, and it wasn't going to start anytime soon.

The case of Remus Lupin was never revealed to the Wizarding public, making him the only werewolf to have ever passed the entirety of Hogwarts curriculum _after_ becoming a lycanthrope. Becoming a werewolf after graduating did not deter from completing the institution – only possible career opportunities due to stringent laws and regulations.

Fenrir finally embraced the moon and shifted into his _preferred_ form. After he was done, he turned to his pack, " _The children should be finishing dinner soon. The pigs are all fed and ready for slaughter."_

The pack started to drool as the final command was given, " _Move out."_

They crossed the boundary line of Hogwarts soon enough, their amulets preventing them from being detected by the school's wards.

But only the school wards.

* * *

 _Great Hall, Same time_

Harry immediately paused the fork in front of his mouth as he felt his wards reacting to something new on the school's grounds. He gently put down the fork, hoping nobody would notice him playing with the amulet on his neck, which served as his link to them. After quickly filtering through them all in his mind, he found the one he was looking for on the periphery.

" _Damn it… I was expecting something like this but still… 3,6, 14… twenty… Lucius actually hired twenty of these beasts…"_

"You okay Harry?"

Harry smiled as he turned to a worrying Neville, "Yes, I'm good Neville. I think I going to turn in early tonight."

Neville looked at his plate, "But you barely touched your meal."

Harry raised his hand, "It's alright, I guess I ate a lot during lunch." Harry wiped his mouth before getting up, "I am just going to go back to the Common Room if anyone needs me."

As Harry left the hall, Neville looked conflicted, something Hermione noticed and walked up to him for, "Is something wrong, Neville?"

"Yeah, it's Harry. One minute he's talking about how long this day has been and how hungry he is, the next, he is fiddling with something on his neck before leaving to go to back to Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione bit on her lower lip, "Well… Maybe he really is done eating. If you want, you can follow him."

Neville looked conflicted, "I'll talk with him later. I think he want's to be alone."

* * *

Harry never understood why cartoons called it 'Hammerspace'. Maybe it was because the thing that those cartoons usually pulled out of it was, in fact, a hammer or a mallet, but still, the name was rather stupid.

The concept, however, was not.

It was thanks to the 'Hammerspace' he made through his robes – one only accessed by his magic and his alone – that allowed him to sneak all of his tools through Hogwarts wards. Granted, they weren't magical in nature, but he wasn't going to gamble as to what exactly Hogwarts considered 'dangerous.'

And there he was, armed to the bone with knives, guns, and ammo. He considered using magic but felt that it would present too much of a risk in either exposing how powerful he was or in breaking Tiamat by accident. No, he decided to stick to the essential Hunter gear.

Hunter gear that just happened to be boosted by his personal brand of runes to uber-charge them into downright weapons of werewolf extermination.

Harry was finishing up loading is pump-action shotgun with silver bullets when a thought occurred to him, " _Would silver actually work on this kind of werewolves? I mean, bullets are bullets, sure, but still… Should have really looked into this when I had the chance…"_

As Harry went through his routine, memories flashed through his mind. It was mainly for the time he was assisting the Winchester in preventing the Apocalypse, but once in a while, the faces of the innocent bystanders appeared from time to time. No one ever said there wouldn't have been unnecessary casualties in war.

Harry chuckled as he finished inspecting everything before he slowly wiping away a tear. " _Dammit, I am crying… I thought I managed to get away from it all… To actually resort to killing again… I mean, it's a freaking school for kids, who comes here expecting to kill someone!"_

Harry hit a wall in frustration, cracking it with his enhanced strength. " _I'VE KILLED ENOUGH AS IT IS ALREADY!"_

Burying his feelings deep down until the task was done, Harry took out his headphones and an old iPod. He would have used his new iPhone, but they break too quickly in these kind of fights. He started scrolling through the list.

" _You're Going Down by Sick Puppies? No – not enough tempo."_

" _Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes? No – slow start."_

" _Till I Collapse by Eminem? Maybe…"_

" _Lose Yourself? No."_

" _Down With the Sickness by Disturbed? No – too consistent."_

" _Riot by Three Days Grace? Possibly…"_

" _Wait… Sinnerman by Nina Simone… Well, just for a little bit, before they come…" (7)  
_

Harry played the song as the piano riff started and he lost himself to his feeling and memories, slowly praying for the lives he was going to take, regardless of the fact that they were monsters of the worst caliber.

 _Oh, Sinnerman, where you gonna run to?_

 _Sinnerman, where you gonna run to?_

 _Where you gonna run to?_

 _All on that day_

 _Well I run to the rock, please hide me_

 _I run to the Rock, please hide me_

 _I run to the Rock, please hide me, Lord_

 _All on that day_

 _But the rock cried out, I can't hide you_

 _The Rock cried out, I can't hide you_

 _The Rock cried out, I ain't gonna hide you guy_

 _All on that day_

 _I said, "Rock, what's a matter with you, Rock?"_

 _"Don't you see I need you, Rock?"_

 _Lord, Lord, Lord_

 _All on that day…_

* * *

Fenrir and his pack were about to enter Hogwarts through its main gates when they spotted someone standing blocking their way. Fenrir paused at their end of the bridge, his pack stopping behind him.

They all looked at their Alpha in confusion, not understanding why they stopped before this… child.

Fenrir, despite being in his werewolf, still retained some of his intelligence, it was, in fact, this intelligence that caused him confusion as his lycanthrope instinct screamed at him to run away as far as possible from this _thing_ in front of them.

A thing that reeked not of magic but metal and… Something odd, a mixture or potion of sort that they never encountered.

(They don't know what gunpowder is, and it is technically a chemical compound).

The child gave them their full attention, holding some kind of weapon in his right hand, "I will say this once and only once… Turn around and leave. This is a one time offer. Leave, and you may keep your lives. If not, then I can promise you that you shall not pass."

Fenrir felt the power behind those words, but he ignored his instincts. There were twenty of them and only one of him.

The odds were in their apparent favor.

* * *

Harry noticed that the werewolves weren't backing down. Their Alpha, despite his apparent intelligence, thought they had a chance.

"… _Oh woh, power, power, Lord_

 _Don't you knew_

 _Don't you know, I need you Lord?_

 _Don't you know that, I need you?_

 _Don't you know that, I need you?_

 _Power, power, power Lord"_

Harry stared as the song finished up, his calmness finally achieved. "So be it. May whatever deity you pray to have mercy on your souls."

Harry prepped the shotgun with both hands before another song started playing. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. My death will come, but not today…" (8)

" _Let the bodies hit the floor_

 _Let the bodies hit the floor_

 _Let the bodies hit the floor_

 _Let the bodies hit the floor…"_

One of the werewolves finally got the nerve to attack him as the world died around him.

The last sight they ever saw was Harry's eyes go black.

* * *

Neville, still worried for his friend, was finishing up his family along with the rest of the students when they heard it. It sounded like the cracking of thunder yet there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Before anyone got a chance to even register in panic, it was quickly followed by a sound of an injured animal.

The teachers didn't even get a chance to call the students to attention and silence before many more thunder-like sounds were heard, alongside noises that sounded like wolves fighting.

Only Hagrid registered what they were before shouting to the headmaster over the panicked kids, " **DUMBLEDORE! WEREWOLVES!"**

That caused everyone to go into silence, but sounds of combat were still heard. All kids were trained to stay in one place as a group whenever werewolves were involved, regardless of their standing. Even the Muggle-born quickly understood what was happening.

"Everyone, stay in the Great Hall! NO ONE LEAVES THIS ROOM!" shouted McGonagall, taking command. "Flitwick, Kettleburn, Vector, you stay here protecting the students. The rest of us, it sounds like it's happening outside."

The three quickly nodded, taking position around the hall while the remainder of the staff quickly raced outside, Hagrid taking charge to serve as the shield, being the only one among them immune to infection due to his half-blood nature.

They did not expect to see the sight before them as they stepped outside of the school.

Only McGonagall had the nerve to finally say it, "By le Fay…"

Bodies. Blood. Severed heads. Swords fragments and strange tools on the ground around them splattered in gore. And even more blood covered the area.

The river underneath the bridge was riddled with body parts and drenched in blood.

Werewolves scraped, sliced, broken, and some with holes in them were scattered around them.

And in all of that chaos, not a drop of blood or a foot of wolf crossed the threshold into the school.

On the other end of the bridge stood a child with a sword skewering a werewolf straight through his torso. As he pulled it out and wiped it clean as the wolf collapsed, he didn't even register the teachers approach him.

Snape was the was to register who it was. "MacLeod…"

As shock appeared on everyone's, Harry turned to face Snape, "There were nineteen bodies, right?"

Snape nodded, actually having enough emotional control due to his Occulemency to accurately count them all – despite some of them missing body parts.

"Good, good… Only the Alpha of the pack got away… Don't know who it was though… Managed to cut him across the chest … He is losing blood, so maybe he can be tracked…"

Dumbledore turned to Minerva, "Quickly, go back and contact Amelia at the DMLE. This is not something we can ignore."

She nodded before turning back. Harry looked up at the sky, mumbling to himself. "Let his children wander about and beg; And let them seek sustenance far from their ruined homes… Let the creditor seize all that he has; And let strangers plunder the product of his labor… Let there be none to extend loving kindness to him, Nor any to be gracious to his fatherless children… Let his posterity be cut off; In a following generation let their name be blotted out…."

"Severus, what is he doing?" asked Dumbledore.

Snape listened for a little longer as Harry wavered back in forth, before finally recognizing it. "It's from the Book of Psalm, a religious Muggle book for their God. What he is reciting, in particular, is vengeance and no mercy upon his…," Snape looked at the corpses around him, "… enemies."

Harry finally turned around to the teaching staff, "Professor Snape… I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey…"

Those were the last words he said before collapsing on the ground, his fatigue finally catching up to him.

Luckily for his sake, he managed to put most of his weaponry away.

Most of it…

* * *

 _Gryffindor Tower, little later…_

Neville watched everyone panicking, the Prefects trying to get some semblance of control. Despite the Gryffindor bravery, werewolves were just something no wizard could ignore. No one was immune from lycanthropy, and all it took was a simple scratch or bite from a turned werewolves. Oh sure, Neville had nothing in particular against werewolves: all they are were persecuted individuals who are sick only around 2-3 days a month. But during those days at night, they might as well be the most dangerous things in existence.

As the Prefects were doing the headcount, Neville noticed Crookshanks meowing and scratching the door to get out of the Gryffindor Tower.

"What are doing Crookshanks, why aren't you with…"

Neville paused, a realization dawning on him.

"Guys… where's Harry?"

* * *

 _Hospital Wing, much later…_

By the time Dumbledore levitated Harry to the Hospital Wing, Amelia and her squad of Aurors already arrived. While Amelia waited for the staff, her troop went outside and started recording everything that occurred. At the moment, the hardest part of it all for them was trying to put the werewolves back together to seek to determine their identities.

Madam Pomfrey had already prepared a bed for Harry as someone sends a Patronus, warning her ahead of time.

"Quickly Albus, get the boy over here," asked Pomfrey, a command the Headmaster immediately obeyed. When it came to injured students, the healer had rank.

As Pomfrey began to perform diagnostic spells, Amelia took command.

"Albus, you have two minutes to tell me what the hell happened here before I arrest the lot of you for sending this child to play executioner to a horde of werewolves. I can already see that he has been scratched and bitten all over! There's no way the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures isn't going to get involved, especially since the werewolf that you say got away is most likely Fenrir Freaking Greyback."

Dumbledore raised his hands in a clear sign of submission, "Amelia, we ourselves don't fully understand what happened. We were all eating in the Great Hall when we heard a loud boom from the outside, preceded by an animal. The noises were repeated and interjected with sounds of fighting as it progressed. Before we left the Hall, Professor McGonagall left behind three of the teachers to watch the students while the rest of us went to investigate, with Hagrid leading the charge."

Amelia raised a brow, "Hagrid? Ah, his giant blood makes him immune from lycanthropy. Continue."

Dumbledore nodded, "As we exited the castle, we witnessed the…scene outside…"

"You can say the words bloodbath, Albus, because frankly, I don't have any other way to describe it."

Dumbledore looked down despondent at this, "In any case, we saw all the bodies littered around us, with Harry on the opposite edge of the bridge… pulling a sword out of the last werewolf…"

"A sword we have yet to find, by the way."

"In any case, when Professor Snape recognized him, the boy told us that one werewolf managed to escaped harmed to the west…"

Amelia waved her hand to one of the Aurors in the room, causing him to leave, apparently on assignment to track down said werewolf.

"Afterwards, he recited some passage from what Professor Snape called the Book of Psalms before passing out. The Book of Psalms…"

"I do have Muggle-borns working for me in the DMLE, and I am aware of their world, Albus. You don't have to fill me in."

Amelia pinched her nose while the staff in the Hospital Wing – which consisted of Albus, Minerva, and Severus, as the rest of the teachers were assisting the Aurors – waited for her decision.

"Okay, just so that I understand this clearly, the only individual who can tell me exactly what occurred outside is currently being examined by Madam Pomfrey, who happens to be a pre-teen child."

Dumbledore nodded, realizing where this was going.

"You understand regardless of what we find, there is no way in seven levels of Hell that this ends up in the _Daily Prophet._ " (9)

"I can assist you in that regard if you would like. Cuffe owns me more than a few favors, and it's too late for Rita Skeeter to possibly write a story about this for the morning edition."

Amelia breathed out, some tension leaving her shoulders, "Thank you, but I think I can pull rank and claim that this is something that can't be revealed to the public. The students can be convinced under a Secrecy Oath for the time being until we can ultimately figure this out. Otherwise, we are flying…"

Amelia didn't finish her comment as a large cat suddenly ran through the wing, jumping on the bed of the body being examined.

McGonagall recognized the cat from her infrequent walks through the school in her cat form, "That's Crookshanks, Harry's cat, then that means…"

"Crookshanks! Get back here you crazy cat!" shouted Neville as he and Hermione ran into the wing. They froze midstep the minute they realized just who else was in the room with them.

"Umh…," panicked Hermione, "we were chasing after the cat?"

"Mrs. Granger," glared Professor McGonagall at one of her favorite students, "you better have a good reason for being out of your houses at this time."

"It's my fault, Professor," nervously spoke Neville, "I noticed that Crookshanks was trying to get out of Gryffindor Tower and after realizing that Harry wasn't coming up in the count, I guessed that he was somehow injured in the werewolves attack…"

Amelia interrupted, "How are you already aware of the werewolves? We haven't told anyone yet."

"The Gryffindor Tower sees the grounds around the school," interjected Dumbledore.

Amelia nodded, not realizing this as she was a Hufflepuff. "Continue, Mr…"

"Longbottom, Ms. Bones. Anyway, realizing that he was most likely injured, I went to get Hermione since, well… we are friends. As we got near, Crookshanks got out of my arms, and here we are."

As Neville was telling his story, Hermione finally noticed Harry as Madam Pomfrey finished her diagnostic, "Oh God, Harry…"

Neville finally saw as well and registered just what happened to his closest friend.

Harry's robes were in tatters, somehow still hanging on his body despite the evidence presented, his ever present gloves still intact. None of the skin was uncovered, but by the amount of dried blood on his clothes and slashes present, he was apparently injured. He was missing some hair, but otherwise, his face was free of blemishes, save from a bruise, a small cut on his lip, and the already existing scar across his eye.

"You kids understand that you can't be here…"

"Ms. Bones, my friend is most likely infected with lycanthropy after, what I can only assume, single-handedly killing how who know how many werewolves, preventing this school from what could have been the biggest scandal to hit these shores since the disappearance of Harry Potter. You will not remove us from his side, or else I will use my title as the Heir of Longbottom and call my grandmother. You are aware of her, correct? Augusta Longbottom?"

The staff watched in shock as Neville Longbottom, the quiet Herbology prodigy, apparently grew a backbone and was challenging the Head of the DMLE.

The fact that his grandmother was one the most terrifyingly sweet woman Amelia has ever had the pleasure of working with wasn't going to change the expected outcome of this conversation.

"You both will have to take Secrecy Vows regarding everything you hear and see in this room."

Neville nodded on Hermione's behalf, as she was holding Harry's hand. "We understand."

As everyone present – including Madam Pomfrey – took the necessary vows, an Auror returned to report.

"We managed to compile a preliminary report of what happened outside, boss."

"Lay it on me, Auror Domitor."

The Auror took a breath before starting, "From what we can gather, all the werewolves present outside were dealt with without prejudice. Most of them were killed with bladed weapons. Yes, weapons. We found fragments of various bladed implements outside, but by present count, not enough to account for all the different cuts. The rest were dispatched with what appeared to be focused _Bombarda_ spells until we realized that absolutely no magic was used."

Amelia looked in shock, "No magic? None at all?"

"Well, werewolves are resistant to magic. The boy was most likely aware of this and planned out his weapons accordingly. In any case, we were stumped as well until we found this thing."

The Auror raised the said thing for everyone, with Amelia asking the obvious question. "What is that?"

"That is a pump-action shotgun."

Everyone present turned to look at Hermione.

"My dad likes to go to the range, so I looked up and learned about guns." She said nervously.

Amelia looked in shock, "That's a shotgun? I thought they had two barrels side to side."

Dumbledore looked on Amelia in confusion, "Amelia, what are you talking about? Is that what Muggles call 'guns'?"

"Indeed it is, Albus. And unlike the outdated material they cover in your so called Muggle Studies class, said Muggles have progressed _far_ in regards to handheld weaponry. It's just that I wasn't aware of that particular type of gun."

Hermione stared, "It seemed to have been modified as well, Misses Bones. You would have had trouble recognizing it in any case."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. Any other weapons to report, Auror Domitor?"

"We found fragments of one, but otherwise, we found two semi-automatic pistols and one big ass .44 Magnum."

Amelia raised her brow. The Auror shrugged, "It was modified as well, boss."

Amelia nodded, "Continue."

"We found no other weapons or explosives present. We did find A LOT of silver bullets in the wolves. Don't know why he bothered with them since werewolves being affected by silver is Muggle fiction, but if he is Muggle-born, it weirdly makes sense. But seeing as how he was prepared for such a circumstance, I am at a loss for words."

"Thank you for the report, Auror. Go with the rest of the squad to see if you can track the werewolf that got away."

"Will do boss. Oh, one more thing, we found amulets for each of the werewolves present. Boss, they were the amulets that were in favor by the Death Eaters for their ability to bypass certain wards, particularly those for early alarm and detection."

Amelia realized the implication, "So all these werewolves planned to attack this school by using these amulets… Amulets we haven't seen since the First Wizard War… Amulets that are either in lock up in the DMLE or in the hands of 'former'Death Eaters… Who wants to bet that the werewolves were after Dumbledore to prevent him from being a character witness at Sirius Black's trial in two days?"

Dumbledore looked up, "Amelia, you can't mean that…"

"I do Albus. Auror, put a warrant for the arrest for Lucius Malfoy as a person of interest in this case as a possible conspirator."

"Yes, boss."

As the Auror left, Amelia turned to face Madam Pomfrey, "Now, I believe you have a medical report for us?"

Madam Pomfrey looked conflicted. Professor McGonagall was first to ask, "What's wrong Poppy?"

"I don't know how to explain this, Minerva, but… Harry MacLeod has no trace of lycanthropy in his system."

Everyone froze. Hermione was first to ask, "But.. how? I read that no one is immune from lycanthropy unless they are already a creature of some-kind or at least a quarter of one."

"Indeed that is correct, Ms. Granger," answered Madam Pomfrey, "which means that I can only assume that Mr. MacLeod is in fact related to a creature of some sort."

"Darn it," grumbled Neville, "that makes him a Half-blood. Means I lost the House pool."

"Pardon?" inquired Amelia curiously.

"It's nothing, Madam Bones. Just a standing betting pool regarding Harry's blood nature. The odds were in favor of him being some sort of hidden Pure-blood, but that theory is thrown out the window."

"In any case," interrupted Madam Pomfrey, "I detect various injuries and blood loss, but I am having trouble identifying anything deeper. His robes seem to be preventing it. Miss Granger, if you could assist me?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

Granger was first to gasp out loud as soon as she took off one his gloves. Everyone present quickly registered what they were seeing.

"Take it all off," commanded Madam Bones.

They didn't bother taking off the pants; the robes, shirt, and gloves were enough.

Burns.

All of Harry's body except for his face was covered in old second and third-degree burns, cuts, holes, and injuries that even Amelia couldn't identify. His hands seemed to have the worst of it; they were completely covered in scar tissue, and none of his fingers had nails to speak of. Hermione lost her nerve completely when she noticed the stigmatas through his arms and wrists. Neville kept his nerve when he noted the chain burns and whip marks on Harry's torso and back.

McGonagall was forced to turn around, and Dumbledore visibly paled.

Snape, Amelia, and Pomfrey were the only ones who managed to keep their nerves, despite the fact that what they were seeing was not something that any child could have possibly survived through and recovered to such an extent.

Amelia slowly turned to the headmaster, "Albus, what the hell have you been hiding from me?"

"Amelia, I swear, no one knew that Mr. MacLeod had such injuries."

"So who do you expect me to look for to explain how more than 75% of this child's body is covered in injuries?" Amelia almost shouted.

"I believe I can provide some assistance in that regard," spoke a voice at the entrance to the Hospital Wing.

Everyone present quickly turned to see a man stand under the arch, hands behind him, dressed in black, white collar present, his hair combed back.

Amelia was first to raise her wand in warning, "Who are you? How did you get here?"

"Well, in regards to the latter question, I received a warning from the amulet Harry is wearing there on his neck," pointed the man to Harry.

Hermione quickly noted that Harry, in fact, wore two amulets on his neck. One was made of weird metals covered in what she assumed were runes of sorts. The other one was made of what she believed was silver and was much older than the other. It also looked religious…

"I crafted it so serve as a sort of warning system if he was ever injured critically to some degree or if he needed any assistance. Since he passed out, it activated, messaging me that he was wounded. Afterward, I simply teleported here."

Amelia still didn't put down her wand, still, wary of the stranger, "You haven't answered my first question."

The man chuckled, "Oh forgive me, where are my manners? My name is Gabriel – Father Gabriel Bell. I am one of the caretakers of Hadrian MacLeod."

* * *

 **Thank for the wait everyone. Hopefully, this chapter appeases the 'Supernatural' itch you have been having. Frankly, I would have written a fight scene but unfortunately, anything I would have written would not have matched what I had in my mind. If it helps, just imagine a Mark-of-Cain Dean fighting a horde of Vampires and killing all of them.**

 **Also, if you could, can you PM me some names to use? J. K. Rowling didn't give a lot of the adults in her books first names nor did she mention how many kids were actually attending Hogwarts at any one time. Just to avoid any issues, the names for the Greengrass family - Cyrus and Roxanne - were from '** **A Chance Encounter' and '** **The Slytherin Reformation' by spectre4hire. Nice story if anyone is intrested in reading.**

* * *

 **(1) Hint, hint…**

 **(2) Pensieve joke.**

 **(3) Call back to chapter 2.**

 **(4) In hindsight, this was somewhat obvious. I have an active suspension that the only reason he got to know Hermione as a friend becauseHarry did. The less said about their marriage, the better.**

 **(5) It makes sense logically.**

 **(6) The dedicated Harry Potter fans know who I am referring to.**

 **(7) This is just my personal recommendation but if you get the chance, sit down and listen to the song as it was sung by Tom Ellis in 'Lucifer.' While it plays, just imagine Harry watching the scene outside the castle juxtaposed by images of people eating happily within the halls while the werewolves approach. It really helps build up the** ambiance for **the scene.**

 **(8) I got the quote from 'HANZO VS GENJI Rap Battle by JT Music (Overwatch Song)' on youtube. This one was obviously going to be impossible to notice.**

 **(9) I couldn't help myself.**


	22. Things Are Said That Exaggerate

**Chapter 22: Things Are Said That Exaggerate**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **"Good morning, Vietnam!"**

 **Wait… Wrong movie quote for the moment (from the dearly departed Robin Williams)… What I meant to say was…**

 **"** Hey **you guys!"**

 **… Nah, Goonies was never something I liked…**

 **"Go ahead, make my day."**

 **That's more like my attitude regarding certain PMs and reviews but no…**

 **"Khaaaaan!"**

 **Nope, not yet anyway…**

 **"I know kung fu."**

 **… It's actually kickboxing, and I am seriously getting off topic in regards to my message.**

 **"Heeeeere's Johnny!"**

 **… It's actually Jerry, but not close enough…**

 **WAIT, I GOT IT! As stated by a famous Saiyan in an acclaimed abridged show by Team Four Star:**

 **"I'm Back Bitches!"**

* * *

 **To everyone on this great big conglomeration we call the Internet, I HAVE RETURNED!... but to be fair, I have never left.**

 **Many of you have been panic messaging me for the last few weeks worrying that I had abandoned this story or that I didn't bother reading your reviews and the like. To you, I have only one thing to say:**

 **DON'T GET YOUR KNICKERS IN A TWIST!**

 **(See how I used the British version there?)**

 **I told you guys a long, long time ago, that if I plan to abandon a story, I would say it to you guys straight up and not dangle the carrot known as 'possible future update' over your heads like some other writers do. And in relation to that – what is your major malfunction people? Granted, it may seem like I** am being condescending **to all my readers, and for that, I apologize.**

 **Most of you – like 97% - were patiently waiting for my next update. The rest of you kept messaging me almost demanding that I update my story because you needed your next fix or something. Guess what people? You are on a website that literally has MILLIONS of other stories relating to Harry Potter to read. Do what other normal readers do and simply follow a ton of other stories to get your daily fix (like I do). Plus, I have a life and work. Sure, I am not married and single, but I do have s**t to do. When you work with little kids most of the week, your creative juices take a nose dive, so stop your complaining and get some patience.**

 **Again, I am sorry if I am offending anyone who patiently waited for my story, but I had to get the point across to those who didn't. Please excuse my poor behavior and choice of words.**

 **Now, this is going slightly different compared to my other author notes for the sheer fact that over the last (checks chapter number) 21 chapters, I feel like I've gotten closer to you lot. So, starting from now, my notes are going to start being part actual author's notes, part update, part rants, part talking to the audience, and part whatever the hell I want them to be. Why? Because frankly, writing stuff on your bio page doesn't get the point across about yourself and I actually want my dedicate readers to get rewarded for sticking with me.**

 **So, to the messages.**

 **1\. I already made my point regarding updates clear. But in layman terms: I have no set schedule. Will I forget about this story and not update for three months? No. But will I update on a weekly or bi-weekly basis? I can't promise that to you guys cause I like you too much to give you false hope. If you want to help, I guess you can message me about being a co-writer for this story, but honestly, it's up to you guys.**

 **2\. I am honestly surprised how some people didn't notice the small brick joke I left in the last chapter regarding Justin Finch-Fletchley. For those of you confused, please refer to Chapter 2 of this work and reference episode 8 of Season 7 (Season 7, Time For A Wedding!) of 'Supernatural' to get the joke. Hint: deals don't have to be ten years long.**

 **3\. I got the name Gabriel Bell from episodes 11 and 12 of Season 3 (Past Tense) of 'Star Trek: Deep Space Nine,' my favorite Star Trek show.**

* * *

 **That's right, I said it. Bring on the haters.**

 **Actually no, this needs to be addressed so that I can at least avoid the constant ringing of my phone when I get PMs of hate from the more avid and diehard fans of the franchise. Just to avoid any confusion, I said DS9 was my favorite _show_ of the series. My favorite captain is, and forever will be, Jean-Luc Picard (live and long and prosper Sir Patrick Hewes Stewart). My ranking of the shows is as follows:**

 **1\. Deep Space Nine (1993–99)**

 **2\. The Next Generation (1987–94)**

 **3\. Voyager (1995–2001)**

 **4\. The Original Series (1966–69)**

 **5\. Enterprise (2001–05)**

 **I am reserving judgment for Discover until I have watched the show, but I don't have high hopes for it. They remade the Klingons, added new alien species (which screws with canon since this is the earliest show timeline wise within the created universe), and they gave Spock an adopted human sister (BLASPHEMY!).**

 **I have watched A LOT of television and movies. Am I a movie and television nerd/buff? No, that honor is reserved to those who worked for the right. Am I a film and tv show 'gourmand'? I like to believe so. In any case, over the years, I have coined what I like to call "The Special Effects Ageing Paradigm" (a little play on how the episodes of 'The Big Bang Theory' are titled).**

 **The S.E.A.P goes along like this: any show or movie that uses special effects (ranging from CGI to prosthetics) falls under its jurisdiction (except for animation). No genre is off-limits nor is the year of making (but it does play a factor in nostalgia and the like). Only the fact that special effects are prevalent in the work is the criteria.  
**

 **My logic goes like this:**

 **Regardless of how good or memorable a piece of entertainment becomes (for good or bad), it falls victim to aging. Now, whether it becomes a fine wine or vinegar with time depends ultimately upon ONE THING: whether or not the special effects are used in a _supporting_ role or in a _leading_ role.**

 **For those confused, let me explain. Special effects that support the entertainment work in the background and strengthen the work as a whole. Special effects that lead the work are the crux and bases on which the work is built. It's a little wonky to understand, but hopefully, these examples will make sense.**

 **A. Alien franchise.**

 **Ignoring Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017) at this time, let's check the earlier works. Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986) were both great sci-fi horror movies that I believe set the tone for future films that followed. Alien 3 (1992) and Alien Resurrection (1997) were pieces of crap. Why? Maybe because of the sequel curse, but I choose to believe that it was due to a shift in the usage of the Alien(s). In the first two movies, the Alien was somewhere between lead/support. Why? Because while Sigourney Weaver was, in fact, the main character of the franchise, the Alien drove the story. It was the antagonist that drove audience members to fear and got us hooked on the story. Plus, it worked from the sidelines, letting the human cast emotions and drama entertain us. The next two movies screwed it up since they shoved the Alien into the leading role, making it compete with Weaver for dominance. This is especially evident in Resurrection, in which the cloning of the Aliens becomes the main force of the movie, rather than the survival of the human cast. This is not to say that special effects in the leading role will automatically ruin a movie. Far from it – some movies actually succeed because of it.**

 **B. Original Star Wars vs. Prequel Star Wars**

 **Little misleading but evident none the less. The original trilogy was entirely driven by the conflict and drama within the three movies, using special effects to strengthen the movies through lightsaber fights, space battles, and the like. Prequels, however, had special effects as the literal front seat driver. I mean seriously, even if I disregard The Phantom Menace (1999) as a crappy movie all on its own, Attack of the Clones (2002) and Revenge of the Sith (2005) still relied HEAVILY on CGI to keep our interests in the movies. Did they have great fight scenes? Yes. But do we – as viewers – only remember the fight scenes for how cool they looked and nothing else about the movies? Then you f****d up. Now The Force Awakens (2015) rectified that by going back to its roots. Did it rely on CGI? Yes, BUT it was balanced out/overshadowed by the plot and world-building that took place, making it take a supporting role rather than a leading role. For those of you debating the notion, consider this: recall your favorite scenes from the sequel trilogy. Now from the original trilogy. Were they mostly of character moments rather than battle moments? Then I rest my case.**

 **C. Clear-cut examples.**

 **1\. The Fly (1986) vs. The Fly II (1989)**

 **The first dealt with the slow descent of madness of a scientist who came too close to the Sun as he slowly transforms from man to monster by his own making, with his final visage being on screen for maybe less than 10 minutes. (SE – supporting roles with the story in charge)**

 **The sequel tried to emulate the success of the predecessor and instead relied more on heavy gore and violence than on plot and atmosphere. (SE – relied on for more than half the film, even if did have a great horror impact)**

 **2\. Avatar (2009)**

 **People have mixed opinions about this (i.e., Pocahontas with aliens), but it is a recent clear-cut example of SE in a leading role that succeeds since the movie is literally built around the CGI Na'vi, so you can't really put it into a supporting role.**

 **3\. Friday the 13th (1980) & A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) vs. Sequels**

 **Classic horror movies? Check. Makeup on lead actors to play their famous visages? Check. First films relying entirely on the fear of being caught by the killers rather than relying on the actors themselves to lead the movie? Check. Future** works **literally trying to milk a rock by shoving the villains more and more in the audience face with crazier and crazier scenarios and effects? You tell me – was sending Jason Voorhees to space and turning him into a cyborg too much, or am I just over thinking it?**

 **4\. Transformers Film series**

 **There are no words to describe the hate I feel for Michael Bay in how he has desecrated the Transformers franchise. Well, technically, there are, but I don't possess enough self-control to not go into a 17-page rant fest of how badly he has screwed it. These movies alone are probably why CGI has fallen into disrepute to such an extent. I mean seriously, when a move is only praised for its visual effects and action sequences, you went wrong somewhere. Just to clarify, Thrillers are remembered for action sequences, not Action movies like these once. I mean seriously Bay, you had a franchise with a rich and vibrant history to work with, and instead, you turned it a cheap shoot-em-up Duke Nukem invasion franchise. Now, if the movies took place entirely on Cybertron and were completely in CGI, I would have given you slack since the CGI – like in Avatar – would be necessary to make the movie work. But no – you involved Shia LaBeouf, and in turn, you involved Murphy's law. And yet somehow, you still made money, and you still pumped out more movies. I think Robot Chicken was on to something when they mace a sketch about you.**

 **I think I ranted on this topic for too long and kind of got lost somewhere so I'll make it quick. Enterprise is on the bottom because they literally rely on special effects to make it work (as an example, each episode of Discovery requires about 8 million dollars to make – about same as Game of Thrones - while Enterprise needed about a million). The Original Series is in fourth because I am personally not a fan of monster-of-the-week type stories ('X-Files' being an apparent exception since it did have a driving arc connecting everything together – up until they got rid of Mulder) even if I did still enjoy the show. It's for this same reason that my top three are in such positions, with DS9 being at first since it was literally all tied together from season to season (the fact it all took place in one location may be a factor, but I digress). The same could be said about Voyager vs. TNG, but Picard won over Janeway easily.**

 **I still think that I didn't make myself clear in my explanation of S.E.A.P, but I was ranting so don't hate me for it.**

* * *

 **FINAL MESSAGE**

 **I am sad to say that there is a reason as to why it took so long for me to post this chapter. Procrastination did play a role in it, but not in the way you think. I spent the last month or so reading other fanfics on this great website of ours, and unfortunately, they all led to one inevitable conclusion.**

 **When I set out to write this piece, my biggest desire was to go against the grain of some of the more well-known stories out there and not make Dumbledore evil. Unfortunately, after reading literally over a hundred Harry Potter fanfics, I have come to the sad conclusion that it's just not possible. And just to clarify, I have perused the whole of this site to find a DECENT Harry Potter fic in which Dumbledore was good. I only managed to find ONE – 'Dumbledore's Next Great Adventure Part 1', and that one had to literally bring a Dumbledore from a different universe to make it work (if anyone out there knows of another decent one, give me a message).**

 **In all fairness, this was going to happen sooner or later. Despite having all the guide post planned out in the story, trying to make Dumbledore merely into a misguided man with good intentions was becoming too much of a roadblock for me. So, I went back to the drawing board and looked at all the mistakes and questionable choices that he has made (and trust me, the number of them is the reason why my goal was becoming impossible. As was written by Ian Fleming – 'Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is an enemy action'. And guess what? Dumbledore had more than three questionable actions in what JKR Rowling presented to us through her works). In the end, I settled for making him an antagonist. And yes, there is a clear distinction between what is classified as a villain and antagonist in writing. Will Dumbledore play a villain at times? More than likely but not set in stone. Will other fan-favorite characters join him on the 'Dark Side' as it were? Truthfully, after revising what I had planned, turns out there is a way to make that happen without pissing everyone off. Give it time though.**

 **Now, after going on more than 2600 word rant (about 4 pages in Word), it's time to get back to the story.**

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

 **PS. I took liberties with Millicent Bagnold. Honestly, until I checked, I always assumed that she was older. Like, Dumbledore old, not Sirius's age (according to sources, she was– at the youngest – born four years after Sirius, making him her elder.) Hence, for this fic, I am writing her as being much older. Also, because of this, I am also making it so that Fudge took his post immediately after the war ended, not a year before Harry started Hogwarts as in canon.**

* * *

 _October 10_ _th_ _, 2011 – Closing on to midnight,_

Despite a month into the school year, the Hospital Wing was more crowded than ever. The only time it ever came close to such numbers was after every Quidditch game – or after a particularly bad Potion class.

At the current moment, the Hospital Wing contained nine people – Madam Pomfrey, Amelia Bones, Albus Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Hermione, Neville, Harry, and Gabriel.

Crookshanks doesn't count.

So it took a lot to make the room so silent as to hear a pin drop.

"I am sorry," spoke McGonagall, regaining her voice before anyone else, "but who is Hadrian?"

Shock registered on the priests face before he chuckled, "I am sorry, but that's Harry's name."

Suprise was on the Headmaster's face, "You will have to forgive our confusion, but the admission letter was addressed to…"

"Yeah, we found it weird as well," spoke the priest as he walked forward, arms crossed behind his back, "but we chalked it up to magic and always addressing him by his nickname rather than his full name."

Gabriel stood over Harry, observing him, with no attempt to stop him being made in his traversal of the room, not even by Amelia.

"If I may ask," inquired Madam Pomfrey, "just for record's sake, what is his full name?"

Gabriel sighed, "His full name – or rather, the name that was given to him by his adoptive father – is Hadrian Lazarus MacLeod."

Hermione, still at Harry's right side, looked at the priest in confusion, "Lazarus? As in…"

"Yes, Hermione, as in the Raising of Lazarus in Bethany by Christ."

Noting the shock on the girls face, Gabriel smiled. "Yes child, I know your name. Just like I know the name of everyone in this room – except for you, Miss…?"

"Bones. Amelia Bones."

"Ah," recognition dawned on Gabriel as he shook her hand, "Head of DMLE and aunt of Susan Bones. Harry has written about your niece recently, I just didn't make the connection."

Nodding at the understanding, Amelia went forward, "I am sorry to ask you this, but what is your relation to Harry… I mean, Hadrian here?"

"You can use Harry if you want, Constable" – Hermione suppressed a snicker – "but for clarification, I guess you can say that I am his… guardian, I suppose. I helped raise him alongside his Dad ever since he was adopted."

"You suppose?" asked Amelia with her trademarked eyebrow raise.

Gabriel rubbed the back of his head, "There's an explanation for that, but it's a long story."

Snape smirked, "More complicated than the horse of dead werewolves outside the school?"

"Indeed. Now where did I put it…" spoke Gabriel as he started checking his pockets.

"I am sorry, but what are you looking…" began Dumbledore before Gabriel shouted, "Found it!"

Everyone stared at the priests raised his hand as he approached Harry once more.

"Did you just pull the Sorting Hat out of your cassock?" asked Hermione, almost shocked by the sight of such a thing.

"First of all, I think pulling a hat out of another hat just doesn't leave the same impact as say… a rabbit. Secondly, I believe the hat has a name, does it not?"

"Does it?" asked a shocked Neville, never even considering such a thing.

"Well, of course, I have a name. Everyone has a name," spoke the hat in almost reverend shock. "it's just been so long since needed to use it that I forgot it."

"In any case," interrupted Gabriel, "I believe Harry is due for his meeting with you?"

The Sorting Hat stared at Harry and sighed, "I hoped to speak with the boy under better circumstances, but this will do. Besides, maybe I can help him wake up faster. Just put me on his head, Father Gabriel."

"Will do, magic hat." spoke Gabriel as he did as the hat commanded. The second it was on his head, it went quite as it started to mumble to itself and shift little by little back and forth.

Gabriel clapped his hands and turned back to everyone, "This may take a while so why don't we all pull up a chair so that I can tell you Harry's story – or at least the one kids can hear."

"Hey!" spoke Neville and Hermione at the same time.

The witches and wizards in the room nodded and summoned up some chairs to sit down on. Before anyone had a chance to ask, the Headmaster threw the first salvo, "I am sorry to stop you before you tell us Harry's story, but I have to ask: how did you apparate into Hogwarts?"

"How did I what?" asked Gabriel, confusion clearly evident on his face.

The only Muggle-born in the room translated, "He means magical teleportation."

"Oh, then why I didn't you just say so, since it was what I did to get here. I did use Harry's necklace as a magical beacon…"

"You mean a portkey?"

"I don't know what that is, Miss Bones."

Noting everyone's confusion, Gabriel sighed, realizing he had to make a different speech before giving them Harry's _backstory_. "This is going to be difficult to explain," looking to Hermione for guidance, "what do you think is a better explanation for these people: the scientific one or the magical one?"

"Stick to magic," deadpanned Hermione, "the day I see anyone refer to magic through physics besides Harry is the day I eat my _Hogwarts: A History_ book for dinner." (1)

"Okay then, message received." Gabriel turned back to his audience, "Okay, the short version is this: since you lot separated from the Muggle world around the 1690's, you seem to have forgotten about all other forms of magic out there, just like they have forgotten about you. I don't know if it some sort of modified notice-me-not charm on both ends, since said other magic users don't actively look for you and vice-versa, but I digress. In any case, I have my own brand of magic, Harry was trained in our form, he got the letter, Harry is here, Harry knows different stuff then you lot. Any questions?"

"Several," chimed Amelia. "First thing first: why the silver bullets?"

"Ah, I was expecting this when I saw the bodies outside. Short answer: divergent evolution."

"What?" asked all adults in confusion.

Hermione sighed in defeat, slowly starting to wonder if she made the right decision of going to a magical school, "Divergent evolution is the biological notion that over time, the accumulation of differences between groups can lead to the formation of new species."

"Thank you, my little redhead wunderkind. Harry's theory was that somehow, a large chunk of the werewolf commonly found in the Muggle World got stuck in your little bubble of reality and fell victim to its laws. Over time – either due to genetic mutation or magical influence – it diverged to the werewolf you lot commonly fear. And before you disagree and say that your werewolf came first, consider this: the werewolf myth and its facsimiles regarding silver are acknowledged worldwide, so did your thing that your version of the werewolf was the right one?"

This caused the teachers to actually stop and wonder for a second regarding this revelation. It was acknowledged by the Wizarding community that Newton Scamander and his children were the leading force in Magizoology: everything said and discovered about magical creatures was practically gospel coming from them. On the other hand, the secrets regarding as to how the Wizarding World was separated from the Muggle World were lost over the centuries. It was more than likely that what the priest was stating was possible and that the magics laid down that day were actively making it so that they didn't mesh with the other magics in the world. The only one who could possibly confirm this was to find someone who was alive before the spell was placed, but was limited to magical creatures. It was at least to _most_ people in the room that is.

"Even if what you speak is true," spoke McGonagall, "How is it that you were able to find out about our world?"

Gabriel shrugged, "It was difficult at first. When Harry got his letter, his dad and I tried our hardest to find any mention of it. Believe me, we were stumped, and that is not something we openly admit. Eventually, we gave Harry a shot at it, and he found evidence that we missed entirely. The minute he pointed it out to us, it was as if a veil was lifted from our eyes and all the stuff we dismissed earlier suddenly became relevant."

"Seems more like some sort of modified Fidelius then Notice-me-not ." said Snape.

"Harry thought so as well, but he argued that if it was one, then Muggle-born and Muggles should be completely unable to find their way into the Wizarding World by accident unless they were led by someone already aware of it. Also, in that regard, who would be the secret keeper and how is it that anyone magical – well, this side of magic – can share the secret without repercussion."

"Let's put a pin in that little problem and let the Unspeakables deal with it. For now, tell me about the werewolves that the rest of the world are familiar with."

"Very well, Miss Bones. What I am telling you is the generally accepted version in our… community… of how werewolves came to be. This is not the stuff that's written in Muggle fiction and fantasy or by you folks either. Fair warning, it's very… biblical… so I'll make it as general as possible. Basically, in the beginning, when God was in the process of 'making' everything, including us, the angels, Heaven, and Hell - he somehow created the Mother of All. Now, this is actually debated, but it is acknowledged that she predated most things in creation, including angels themselves. As she came into existence, so did her works. She, in turn, started creating, but whereas God made humanoids, she made creatures. Her proudest works were her firsts - the epitome of their entire species, what we dub as the Alphas. In any case, in her urge to one-up God, she became too dangerous to exist, so without any other choice, God had to lock her up in what we now consider Purgatory. Unfortunately, as the story goes, God only managed to lock up the worst of her creations alongside her, and the rest made their way to Earth."

"What does this have to do with…"

"Patience, Miss Bones. Of the Alphas that came into being, one was the Alpha Werewolf, or as we like to joke in the community, Fenrir."

McGonagall's eyes bugged out, "Fenrir? As in the wolf son of Loki?" (2)

"One and the same. To be fair, all the clues are there if one looks for it. Just look at the notion of berserkers – same region, strikingly noticeable similarities. Hell, if we had a moon chart from when the battles took place we could confirm it in a second; but I digress. Although to be fair, other cultures had something similar like the Úlfhéðnar, but Fenrir seemed like a fitting name. In any case, just like you expect, the werewolf was able to infect others with his bite when in their beast form to pass on the curse, but the similarities end there."

"What do you mean?' inquires Dumbledore

Gabriel turned back to face Harry, hat on his head, still muttering to itself, "Harry has looked into it on our behalf, and frankly, you lot have it easy with your werewolves?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, sure – they have an infecting bite and have some forms of enhanced capabilities, but honestly, that's it. On the bright side, they can at least maintain their sanity during the full moon when they shift into wolf form and they have magic immunity – something we believe was caused by their environment."

Amelia paled at this nonchalant description of the greatest fear of the Wizarding World, "Forgive me for asking this but… how dangerous is _your_ breed of werewolves?"

Gabriel breathed out a heavy breath, "Well, on the bright side, they aren't resistant to magic, so you lot can quickly take care of them. On the other hand, they compensate for that shortcoming."

"How so?"

"There are two types of werewolf's that we in the community are familiar with. They are the regular ones and the pure-bloods."

Gabriel waved his hand while everyone was in shock, "Yes, yes, even creatures have notions of pure-bloods, MOVING ON! The werewolves an average individual can run into are the regulars which make up about… 97% of the total population."

"So large?" interrupted Snape.

Gabriel raised a finger, "There's a reason for that. Now your regular werewolf type is kind of like yours – there's a lunar cycle, shapeshifting, and an infectious bite, but the similarities end there. For one thing, when they shapeshift, they don't go all David Kessler in London. They do however grow some hair, big-ass fangs and claws, and become very, _very_ determinedin getting their meal, which will always include their identifying tell – the consumption of the heart. They also receive even greater enhanced abilities then your brand of wolves but with two distinct advantages – regeneration and nigh-invulnerability to anything. I say nigh because only three things can overcome they uber-charged ability to recover – decapitation, dismemberment, and most importantly, silver. Ergo, why Harry used silver bullets and blades with silver in their composition to shish kebab the ones outside."

Everyone blanched at Gabriel's description of the werewolf commonly known in the world. Amelia at least now understood why Harry did what he did, but she also had to push on and ask the dreaded question, "What about pure-bloods?"

"They are a toss-up, mainly since they usually don't kill humans."

The shock was evident on everyone's face since that seemed to contradict the description he gave in regards to the regular types of werewolves. "Why is that?"

"Werewolves are classified by how removed they are from Patient Zero of the werewolf strain – i.e., Fenrir. Werewolves that are closer to the Alpha up to the fourth generation are referred to as pure-bloods, and anyone afterward is a regular. And trust me, being a pure-blood comes with perks, the key one being the ability to shift whenever one wants and with total control of their mental faculties. Granted, they have to make sure they never eat human hearts since that breaks the balance and turns them savage, but it's easy enough to do with a healthy diet and self-regulation. Oh – they can also reproduce and pass on the werewolf strain to their children without it weakening. Also, a pure-blood can actually turn a regular werewolf into a pure-blood since their strain is more potent and overrides the weaker one. Whether or not they can do the same to your kind needs to be confirmed."

"They can reproduce?" spoke Neville in fear.

"Sure, but to be fair, since folks in our community that actually believe in pure-bloods don't bother discriminating, their numbers aren't high to begin with. To them, a werewolf is a werewolf, even if they live in solitude, or in a loving family, or whatever else that doesn't involve going out and hunting humans."

"What is this community you keep referring to?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"We call ourselves Hunters."

"Hunters? Like… guns and tracking for deer?" asked Hermione in worry.

"Yes, except substitute guns with weapons and massive research of folklore and mythology, and then replace deer with things that go bump in the night. And trust me, that's a rather broad spectrum of things that hit, howl, screech, hunt, and basically, make humans look like teeny little puppies that whizzed on the carpet in the lobby. They tend to stick to themselves and only kill when they hear actual reports of wrongdoing, but otherwise, the world doesn't even know that they or these creatures even exist. Kind of like you guys except without a spell to ensure it and with a lot more bloodshed and tears."

Silence.

"Did you lot really think that your magical creatures were that dangerous and terrifying? Please, I've personally killed things that make your dragons look like dachshunds in comparison."

This clearly was too much for Hermione, "But… you're a priest! Priests don't kill!"

Gabriel shrugged, "Depends on your interpretation of the good book. Tell me, child, if someone was in danger in front you and the only way to save them was to kill the perpetrator, would you – as a good Christian – kill him or her to protect the one being attacked?"

Hermione blanched but pushed onward, "First of all, I'm Jewish – I've read both books. Secondly… I really don't know."

Gabriel nodded, "Good because I'm not sure either."

Hermione looked at Gabriel perplexed.

"You have to understand Hermione, I don't know what will happen when I finally pass on to the next great adventure" – Dumbledore flinched almost unnoticeable – "but I would like to think that when the time comes for my judging, they will show leniency for the things I've done. But I don't to gamble on that chance, hence why I prefer not to go on hunts too often. Instead, I serve a more axillary role in the community, such as healer, researcher, a good ear, and worse comes to worse, a priest who happens to have a knack at exorcisms."

"I think we have gotten rather off topic here at the moment, Mr. Gabriel…" interject Dumbledore.

"That's FATHER Gabriel, sir."

"Forgive me – Father Gabriel. While your explanation of werewolves and this… Hunter community has been rather informative, we seemed to have gotten off topic regarding Harry and how he has come to gain his… injuries."

Gabriel paused and looked at his hands before sighing and clasping them together. "You have to understand that this is rather personal to Harry – neither his Dad nor I know exactly what happened."

"What do you mean you don't know what happened to your ward?" spoke Professor McGonagall, with a hint of venom and anger not so hidden in her tone.

"It's best I start from the beginning. I met Harry for the first time back in July of 2007 when Crowley – his adoptive father – called me in to treat someone he found. Never told me where he actually found him either since Crowley's business takes him everywhere in the world. Before you ask, Crowley's job is kind of like a fixer – he facilitates deals between individuals and such to make sure things go smoothly, and everyone gets what they want. His prices are steep, but it's worth it. In any case, you should have seen him when I first laid eyes on him – small, scrawny, silenced, illiterate, we even thought he was mute for a while. It took us months to get him to open up to us, and he still didn't really tell us what happened to him during the first years of his life. We quickly pieced together that he must have been abused or mistreated for his abilities when he showed us his pyromancy abilities. From there, Crowley and I took turns nourishing his gifts, getting healthy, and basically giving him the childhood he never had."

"A childhood that included getting oneself nearly killed while hunting dangerous beings and creatures on a frequent basis?" added Professor McGonagall.

"You make it sound as if we forced him into it. No, it happened by circumstance. It was a few years later when a pair of brothers ran into a situation in which they were out of their league. Their names were Sam and Dean…"

"Winchester. Harry writes to Dean from time to time but he really doesn't talk about him nor his brother," Neville spoke.

"That's because Sam isn't around anymore."

"Oh," blanched Neville, "Was it related to the…?"

"It was but only circumstantially. You have to understand, the first time the three met, they sort of hit it off and started working together from time to time. The boys had the experience to make sure Harry stayed safe when he occasionally went with them, and Harry got a chance to train his skills and save people from monsters. That might have been a reason why he got involved with such a world at a young age but nothing Crowley did manage to deter him from stopping him from going on the hunts."

"So when do the burns come in?" asked Amelia.

Gabriel looked down in shame, "It was almost a year ago. The Winchester boys and an associate of theirs got involved in a cult of sorts. Well, they call themselves a cult – I called them downright Satanists. They had this whole idea that Sam was Lucifer reincarnated and that he was his human vessel on this plane. Wanted him to willingly submit and allow himself to get possessed and bring upon Armageddon. Harry heard about some of the… things… they did which they called 'holy rights and rituals' and well… their numbers started dropping soon after that."

Snape eyes narrowed, "The boy has killed humans before?"

Gabriel huffed, "Calling those monsters humans is like calling a kitten a freaking lion – not on the same level. Believe me, the things they have done… Suffice to say, Harry took it rather personally. Setting them on fire may have been too much, but I think they had it coming."

"And they got even?" deduced Amelia

Gabriel brushed a hand through his hair, "The cultist finally managed to get their hands on Sam by tricking him. They had him tortured and high on so many drugs that by the time he said 'yes,' he thought he was convinced he was Lucifer. All they really did was brake down his limits and morality so that he would his use abilities without reservation. In your terms, I guess you would have called him an Obscurus, one who managed to survive to his 20's through sheer willpower and control."

"And where does Harry come in?"

"Harry was… his last test. When Harry heard what happened to Sam, he lost it. We didn't get a chance to stop him before he teleported – yes, he can teleport, believe me, he has a lot of skills he hasn't shown any of you yet – to their base and went on a spree. Unfortunately, he was overpowered by Sam and, well…"

"He was tortured, wasn't he?"

Gabriel looked on to Professor Snape, guilt clearly evident on the priest's face. "By the time Dean and his posy got to him, Sam had his way with him. We tried everything to stop Sam – we lost a good man that day. In the end, however, when Sam was about to beat his brother to death, Dean finally got through to him and brought him back to sanity. With the last shred of control Sam had left, he… ended himself."

Dumbledore stared in shock, "And the Obscurus? What of the magic release?"

Gabriel shook his head, "Self-contained explosion, one that got rid of the cult and its members. Ever since then, I have been slowly healing Harry on my own" – Gabriel raised his hands, allowing them to glow to everyone's surprise, before putting them down as they dimmed – "and as you can see, most of my efforts went into his face."

Hermione looked back at Harry before facing Gabriel again, "So his body…"

"Will heal with time by my aid and through his own magic. None of you have anything to worry about."

"Except for the fact that we have a child who is apparently a trained killer and has powers and heritage we don't understand." deadpanned Snape.

"You don't have to worry about that – Crowley made Harry swear not to get involved in Hunting until he was much, much older. He also caught off all ties with the Winchester, which frankly wasn't necessary since Dean himself retired to go and raise a family. In regards to his abilities, I would like to remind you that it was those abilities that prevented those werewolves from getting into this school in the first place. And what do you mean by heritage?"

"He wasn't infected by the werewolves during the exchange."

"Huh. Maybe he does have some sort of creature inheritance, but it would most likely be from your end, since he was initially part of your world. And if he does have some sort of non-human blood, he has never shown any signs of it."

Dumbledore hand went through his beard, "He could be related to Veela."

Hermione and Neville looked at the Headmaster in shock, "But sir, I read that all Veela were female."

"True," replied Dumbledore, "but what is written is all that we managed to gather from them. You have to understand Hermione, Veela are technically classified as Beings and as much, are mistrusted by a significant chunk of people, despite their human visags. Who knows what secrets they haven't shared with us out of fear of persecution?"

"But don't Veela transform into Harpie-like creatures when enraged?"

"That is true Neville, but you also have to remember, Veela are also known for two other things: their natural abilities to create and manipulate fire, and their magically seductive auras."

Gabriel nodded, "Logical deduction. From there, one can argue that maybe the male Veela are born without the ability to become Harpies nor the ability to attract mates. Maybe they even… get rid of them to make sure others don't find out. Sounds almost Amazonian if you think about it, especially since Veela are found mainly in the Mediterranean."

"That's a rather grim outlook." replied Amelia.

"It is, which is why it's more likely that Harry is a result of a Veela reemerging in a Muggle family after many generations. I mean, it's possible that at some point in time, a Veela girl was born without the usual gifts, was assumed to be a squib, was left in the Muggle world, and a few generations later, a kid with inherent magic is born… spark meets ember… and BOOM! A male Veela is made!"

Amelia nodded, noting that that explanation seemed more logical and believable than a whole culture of creatures killing of their male young. "Alright, I've heard enough to get the basic picture. For now, this incident shall still remain classified and under investigation. Dumbledore, please make sure that the _Daily Prophet_ doesn't catch wind of this. We in the DMLE, on the other hand, will put out an arrest warrant for Lucius Malfoy of the Noble House of Malfoy as a 'person of interest' in an outgoing case in which he was possibly involved. Also, Father Gabriel, please inform Harry and his Father that until further notice, he will have to be classified as a 'Being' by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures until such time that he can either confirm or refute it."

Gabriel nodded, "Seems reasonable. Will the students have to be informed about it?"

Professor McGonagall jumped in, "The staff will be notified, and his file in the Ministry will be under lock and key. However, despite the fact that the students are under an oath of secrecy, they can still talk among themselves and stray to the wrong conclusion. They are aware that Harry was involved somehow, and if they assume that he engaged the werewolves, then they will assume that he got infected."

Gabriel smiled, "Easy enough to rectify – make a big scene out of it by having him publically displayed somewhere on the full moon. Rumors will fly, but it will be hard to refute such evidence about Harry being a werewolf. And if they somehow find out that Harry is a Being… well, they have no way to confirm or deny it, so that is what it will remain, a rumor. As far as I am concerned, Harry's involvement – unless told otherwise to the students – will continue to be as mysterious and enigmatic as he is."

Everyone in the room winced while Gabriel laughed, "Hey, even Harry finds it amusing! He wasn't even trying to create such a persona but…"

"DAMN YOU CHIKA!" screamed the Sorting Hat, getting everyone's attention and getting more than a few to jump from the scare. (3)

"Well, seems like the hat is done with his job," spoke Gabriel as he clapped his hands as he walked up to Harry as he was waking up. "You ran into trouble in there?"

"Only in so that Harry decided to pull a last minute prank after we finished our talk. In any case, he's fine – the shock of having to kill again is what made him pass out. He should recover physically on his own in a few days."

"Excellent. Now Madam Pomfrey, is it okay if I have a moment of privacy with Harry?"

After being ignored for the duration of Gabriel's conversation, Madam Pomfrey was glad to be needed again. "Sure thing, just let me set up the privacy curtain – it will prevent us from hearing what you talk about or see inside of it."

"That's wonderful. Any last questions from you lot?"

"Wait, I have one!" Hermione nearly shouted. "How did you plan to explain magic scientifically?"

"Oh, I was going to equate it to electromagnetic radiation, in so that I was going to argue that magic is sort of like a mixture of wavelength and frequency, in so that all Wizard World magic falls under one wavelength and that, say, all spells relating to fire fall under one frequency, hence so all magic is a combination of said two factors."

Gabriel spoke this nonchalantly while he was closing up the curtain and a little Jewish girl's brain imploded.

"Oh, and before I forget, the Mother of All was named Eve – guess the Bible got some stuff right after so many revisions."

Hermione's brain exploded once more.

* * *

Gabriel sat down in front of a smirking Harry, the hat still on his head. "You want to leave him here?"

"No offense, FATHER Gabriel, but he did rummage through my head for an extended period of time."

Gabriel gave the hat a poignant look, "Should I be concerned?"

The hat chuckled, "Don't worry Archangel Gabriel, your secrets are safe with me. I have no soul or body to torture or interrogate for information, so no one will find out your secrets. And if anything does happen to my physical vessel, Hogwarts will contain my essence until a new one is made."

Harry actually raised a brow at that, "Really? Nice to know Mímir. At least that way, rather than fixing you, I can hypothetically make you a new hat."

Gabriel looked confused, "Mímir, really? After the Norse god renowned for his knowledge and wisdom?"

Harry shrugged, "He was a severed head who advised Odin – seemed appropriate, and it made things easier when talking to him."

Gabriel chuckled, 'That's is just so corny."

"No more than the bullshit I was smelling that you spewed to the teachers and my friends. I mean seriously – Satanists? Veela heritage? Healing hands? I haven't heard that much double talk since I went to a Jordan Belfort seminar." (4)

"Hey, I never denied nor confirmed anything. I did give a general idea of what happened to you, and I simply agreed with Dumbledore's suggestion that could explain the scenario as neatly as possible. So what if only three people in that room didn't completely buy what I was selling them."

Harry sighed, "Fine, fine… anything else you want to inform me that Dean, Sam, or Crowley haven't already told me?"

Gabriel smiled, "So you are aware that Daddy dearest is pissed with you, right?"

"Hey, he said himself he was going to give Bobby's soul back when everything was over. He reneged on the deal, so I corrected the oversite – he taught me better than that. Oh, also, since Mímir helped me sort through my memories, tell him that the son of that Marchioness turned Duchess he made a deal with almost five years ago comes here."

"Really? What a coincidence. He ever tell you why he claimed that soul early?"

"Said something about another pish-posh overindulged pampered princes wanting to move up in the world. The fact he didn't need to kill her to do so never crossed his mind when he sends Cujo after her."

Gabriel slouched his shoulders, "I still hate the name you gave to his favorite hellhound."

"And I still don't understand what you have against Stephen King."

"He is a crappy writer!"

"ONLY HIS LATER WORKS!"

"'Hem, hem!" interrupted Mímir, scaring the crap out of both of them. In shock, the hat smiled, "Still got it." (5)

Harry was first to catch his breath, "Please, don't do that again. That sounded… just so wrong and ominous."

"Agreed. Now, while we have the time. Harry, please tell you felt that malignant and miasmic feeling in the air here?"

"Oh, you mean the one originating from the DADA professor? Yeah, I know. It's so minuscule and benign you have to be either a magical creature with sensory capabilities or one of us."

Mímir nodded, "Since you are aware of this, I can now tell you that you correct Harry. Professor Quirrell is the source of it because he is possessed by a shade."

Harry inquired, "The shade of who?"

Mimir leaned in closer – an odd sight-seeing as he was on Harry's head – and spoke quietly, "If I tell you, you must remove him from the premises. I can't tell Albus since it would violate the stipulation in the hiring contract used since the founding of this school and he is too self-absorbed and mighty to even consider that the stuttering and terrified Quirrel can be the vessel of such evil."

Gabriel was confused, "Is the school hiring contract that ironclad?"

"No, I'm simply unable to violate it since I am tied to this school magically. But since you two are aware of it, the loophole applies, regardless of the fact that's it technically private teacher information."

Harry agreed, "Seems like a fair deal."

"Good," nodded Mímir. "Here's what you need to know…"

Harry and Gabriel listened to the hat intently while Crookshanks continued to nap.

* * *

"They have been under there for a while, Hermione."

"I know Neville. The teachers are starting to worry."

This was true, for while Neville, Hermione, and Amelia Bones sat patiently, the rest of the staff was either standing or pacing.

Neville started at the curtain, making out the shadows inside, "They are rather animate, aren't they?"

Hermione shrugged, "Can you blame them? Harry – even if he is used to it – just fought off over a dozen of werewolves. Gabriel is clearly a concerned guardian making sure his ward is okay."

"But why isn't his father here then?"

"Well he did say he is a busy man who travels the world – maybe he simply couldn't make it which is why he asked Gabriel to come."

"Oh… that makes sense."

Odd moment of silence.

"So… you're Jewish…"

"Let's not make a thing out this Neville."

"I am not, it's just… you did say you were excited to celebrate Christmas."

"One, I said I couldn't wait for the Winter Break so I could spend the holidays with my parents. Two, just because I'm Jewish doesn't mean I can't give my friends presents on Christmas or receive them. And three… we aren't _that_ devout."

"So…"

"We are more culturally Jewish than we like to admit… Look, can we not talk about this? It's not a big part of my life, but I still don't like talking about it – it always leads to more confusion."

Neville raised his hands in surrender, "Hey, don't need to be angry with me. The Wizarding World is surprisingly tolerant of religions - of all things - despite the fact we don't actually believe in a God."

Hermione looked in surprise, "Really?"

Neville noticed the curtain moving, "Conversation for another day…"

Gabriel came out of the curtain with the Sorting Hat in hand while a smiling Harry petting his cat. "Madam Pomfrey, the hat tells me you have creams to aid in recovery after burns, do you not?"

The Madam nodded, "Indeed I do."

"Well, that is good to hear. Based on my estimates, Harry will be in here for a day or two at most. I never had any luck with actually getting rid of his burn marks, but maybe your solutions can do the trick while he recovers."

"I'll need to run a deeper diagnostic spell to make sure, but I don't see why not."

"Good," nodded Gabriel. "If you could, focus on his hands for now. Maybe afterward, you guys can settle on some sort of treatment plan for the duration of the school year and onwards."

Madam Pomfrey smiled, "I can certainly do that."

Gabriel walked to Amelia, "Is there anything else you need Miss Bones?"

"Not at the moment; I am just waiting for the rest of the unit to return with what they found. Should I be able to reach you through Harry if I need to contact you for information?"

"You may, but be aware I may not reply immediately – despite my profession, I am a busy man. Plus, I highly doubt you will need my particular brand of creature knowhow to deal with your problems."

"Duly noted. However, some in our community have been attempting to find a cure for lycanthropy for some time now. It's possible that your brand of magic may be able to help us in the endeavor."

Gabriel pondered this, "I'll look into this but don't get your hopes up." He looked to the teachers. "Anything I need to tell Papa MacLeod about that he should be aware of? Has Harry been doing great in his classes? Has he been getting into trouble? Does he have more than two friends on that bench there? Has he been found in a broom closet with a partner already?"

"Yes, no, possible, and my word, I hope not," spoke Professor McGonagall succinctly. "Mr. MacLeod is a wonderful student, and while he is very sociable and reaches across the house lines, he is very close with Hermione and Neville… hopefully not close enough to end up with a broom closet here with one of them." McGonagall glared at the two mentioned friends – albeit with a hint of smile – while they blushed at the mention of that.

"Honestly, if your Veela theory is right, I would be more concerned if he didn't end up in the closet with _both_ of them. That could be the reason why there are no male Veela – they bat for both teams."

Noting the cherry red color Hermione and Neville were taking at _that_ particular mental image while Harry laughed out loud, Gabriel decided to make a hasty exit. "Well, if that is all, I will take my leave. In case I don't see you... good afternoon, good evening, and good night." (6)

All anyone was Gabriel seemly disappear, without a puff or noise of air taking up empty as commonly associated with Apparition.

"Huh, what do you know," Amelia said in light-hearted shock. "He really can teleport."

"Revelations aside," spoke Dumbledore, "is there anything else you need Amelia?"

"No. I'll go and collect the Aurors and report back to the DMLE. I have a lot of midnight oil to burn if I want all the paperwork done by sunrise at best."

"And Lucius?" inquired Snape.

"As much as I wish it could be, it is more than likely he already managed to flee to parts unknown."

"And his son?"

"We will check St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward to see if he is still there but I won't raise my expectations. Knowing Lucius, he has backup plans for his backup plans."

Dumbledore nodded, "And Sirius's trial?"

"It will proceed as planned, although I suspect this incident may come back in regards to you. You can refrain from going to the hearing as a character witnesses since his release is an absolute certainty, but the public won't like it."

"Give them time. Despite whatever the _Daily Prophet_ writes, it will be their word against the word of James and Lily Potter."

"You are putting high hope on the word of Potter, but I understand."

Albus turned to Snape, "I will keep you up to date if it comes up, Severus."

Professor Snape nodded before leaving the Hospital Wing to his dungeons.

Albus nodded before turning to Hermione and Neville, "Now, it's very late in the night – it is, in fact, the 11th now – so I believe that even I can't write up a pass for the classes you may miss in the morning if you don't go to sleep. Professor McGonagall, can you escort the two to their dorms?"

"Of course Albus. Come along you two, Harry won't be going anywhere, and you can see him tomorrow at lunch if Madam Pomfrey permits it."

Neville and Hermione said their good nights – Nev taking Crookshanks with him back to Gryffindor Dorm – before Albus approached Harry while Pomfrey was getting lotion from her cabinets. "Did you have an informative talk with the Sorting Hat?"

"I gave him the name Mímir, and yes, we managed to cover a lot of our bases. He hopes to talk with me again whenever you have the chance to get the two of us together at your earliest convenience."

"I will check my calendar for the next time I can get the two of you in one room again. Until then, have a good night Mr. Hadrian Lazarus MacLeod."

Harry smiled, "Please, call me Harry."

Dumbledore smiled in turn, "Indeed I shall. Good night Harry. Come along now Mímir. Maybe now you will let me get that gold plated name tag on your pedestal."

Harry continued smiling until Dumbledore left his sight and possible hearing range. At that moment, his jovial nature turned hateful, "Good night, you manipulative, egomaniacal, control freak. And here I thought you were on my side. When I get my hands on you, you just wait…"

"Did you say something, sweety?"

Harry quickly smiled as he turned to face Madam Pomfrey, "Oh nothing, just talking to myself. I really didn't want my friends nor the teachers to find so much about me today. I just hope they don't think worse of me after all of this."

Pomfrey smiled at his worry while she started to apply the healing concoction to his hands, "You have nothing to worry about, child. If those two are truly are your friends, they will stick by your side till the end of time – regardless of what everyone else thinks about you."

Harry smiled at that thought, "One can only hope and see what shall pass."

Harry smelled his hands after Pomfrey was done, "Just what exactly is in this stuff that helps aid in healing from burns?"

"Believe it not, phoenix ash. I get a fresh supply every few weeks from the Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes, which I brew. You would be surprised how many people come up here due to potion accidents of such nature."

Harry laughed, "Don't remind me – I was there when Draco screwed up his boils potion on the first potion class."

Pomfrey gave Harry a knowing glance, "I hope you had nothing to do with that? I do recall that the accident was caused by an _overheated_ potion, was it not?"

Harry gave Pomfrey a shocked look – a hand to his heart, mouth gaping, and the whole exaggerated shebang. "MADAM POMFREY! I hope you are not insinuating anything I could have possibly been responsible for. Its 'innocent until proven guilty,' is it not?"

"HA!" laughed Pomfrey, "I'll have you know I heard the exact the same thing from a particular quartet of pranksters not a little over a decade and a half ago. Trust me, they have gotten away with worse."

Harry gave Pomfrey an evil smile, "What makes you think I haven't done things that I _haven't_ gotten caught for?"

"Touché. Will I see your handy work frequently here or should just prepare a permanent bed for you?"

"You don't have to worry about that," said Harry as he raised his arm to show Pomfrey his rapidly healing scars. "My ability to recover from injuries is rather impressive, is not?"

Pomfrey bug-eyed before smiling knowingly, "You know exactly what you are, don't you Harry?"

"Is it covered by patient-doctor confidentiality?"

"If you mean my Healer's Oath, which prevents me from discussing any and all private patient information and ailments – verbally, through writing, or through mental intrusion - from _anyone_ regardless of power and authority under _any_ circumstances other than your permission under fear of losing my magic or death? Yes, it's covered."

Harry whistled, "Wow, you healers take your jobs seriously."

"You will be amazed how much gossip goes through this ward. They always forget about little old Madam Pomfrey in the corner prepping their medicine while they chat away with their friends. They all forget that I was a Slytherin."

Harry thought about for a second. "So even Legilimency doesn't work?"

"Yes. The magic of the Healer's Oath insures it, but _only_ if we share the information while I am treating you or you are in a recognized medical establishment."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Rather specific guidelines. I can only assume that if you, say, heard a secret somewhere like Diagon Alley, would it be covered under your oath?"

"If it is a patient of mine, there are specific regulations that come into effect that I can't divulge to you. If it is someone I don't know, then it's not protected by my Oath."

Harry smiled, "Good enough. Do you mind?"

Pomfrey moved away from the bed as Harry got up and walked up to the wall before turning and facing her once more.

"They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Hopefully, this will alleviate some of your worries."

Harry slowly raised his hands from his sides as the lights within the Hospital Wing flickered. Pomfrey's panic was quickly overridden as she saw the shadow of two giant wings formed behind Harry.

She was in awe at the sight up until the after the lights returned to normal.

Harry watched as the details all fell into place in her mind, "Take your time."

Pompfrey balked, "So…so… Gabriel was… is in fact…"

"Yes."

"So angels are in fact…"

"They are."

"So am I going to go to…"

"They don't care about worship like you would expect. As long as you have been good, their doors are always open."

"So are you in fact…"

"No, I am not an angel, full-blooded or otherwise."

Pomfrey breathed out a sigh of relief, "Oh good. I was worried that your wings looked a little…"

"More predatory then protective?"

"They did, in fact, look more hawkish then pigeon-like."

Harry smiled, "I've been told they look vulture-like, but that's close enough. I hope you won't be writing this down."

"Oh Merlin no! Besides, who would believe me?"

Harry laid back down as Pomfrey began applying more of the concoction to Harry's arms, "Wait, what about your dad then? Crowley, isn't it?"

Harry chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head, "Let's leave that conversation for another day – we had enough revelations tonight as it is."

"Can't be more surprising than the fact the Gabriel is your guardian."

"You would be surprised."

* * *

Dumbledore entered his office after a very… bizarre session. Granted, he learned much regarding the enigma that was Harry – or rather, Hadrian Lazarus – MacLeod.

While the fact that he has killed before terrified the man, the fact that it was mostly supernatural creatures alleviated him on some regard. He could not, however, forgive him for killing the cultists. They were corrupt, but they were humans. They had a chance of redemption, no matter has small it was. Besides, Harry admitted that they used torture and mental manipulation to recruit others to their way of thought. They could easily have been recovered.

Frankly, it was too late to even consider the implications of such a reveal of what transpired. Thankfully, the students won't go writing to their parents about what happened since they were under Secrecy Vows. Granted, this would eventually all come out when DMLE deems it necessary, but since no one important was injured or harmed in any way – the wolves didn't even get into the school – no one will raise a fuss. The Ministry may and will most likely raise a fuzz about it, but that is to be expected. Hopefully, he can convince Fudge to ignore this.

Dumbledore was about to set Mímir – he meant the Sorting Hat – when he realized something. Fudge always had three people whispering in his ear – Lucius Malfoy, himself, and his Senior Undersecretary. However, now that Lucius – he of the never-empty pockets of galleons – is out of the picture, all that is left is him and Dolores. And without Lucius to back up, Dolores' voice has become a whisper.

"Yes," spoke Albus as he placed the hat on his pedestal. "This could work out well. I'll have to make inquiries, but otherwise, I don't think anyone can gain his ear from the 'Black' side that I am aware of."

Albus kept mumbling to himself while Fawkes trilled in worry at his master. "Don't worry Fawkes," whispered Mímir gaining the firebirds attention. "It will take time, but change is coming. It will be slow, but the changing of the guard has already begun."

Fawkes paused, staring at his ageless friend, nodding in understanding, trilling once more.

"No, I doubt he can be your master. You can only bound with one of pure soul at a time and unfortunately, his is rather…murky at best. He will make a great addition to the 'Grey' side one day, but for now, he gathers his power."

Mímir twitched as he remembered his foray into Harry's mind…

* * *

 _Everyone assumes that entering a mind is like walking through a door into a house._

 _One can only hope that Mímir can get such a chance._

 _Mímir always has to trudge through the disorganized minds of children year after year. Some of them at least bother trying and make it easy for him – if going through a cluttered attic can be considered less strenuous then swimming through a murky lake. Usually, it's just him falling into a void and seeing bubbles of memories float around him. Once in a blue moon, he gets someone gifted – someone like Hermione Granger – who has a naturally organized mind and makes his sorting job both equally easier and challenging._

 _The less organized the mind, the more the forefront traits of an individual are present. On the other hand, the more organized the mind, the more he has to search and peruse before he chooses where they go. Thankfully, Hermione was a natural choice for Ravenclaw; he was worried her desire to emulate Dumbledore would have overpowered her desire to be around those similar to her, but thankfully her meeting with Harry took care for that._

 _Ah, but Harry Potter – there was a challenge of grand making. Mímir has never run into such a vast mind in one so young before. He wanted to search it, but while Harry's earrings didn't block him from reading his mind, he couldn't enter its deepest recesses._

 _Until Harry let him in._

 _And it was, ironically, a door._

 _Seeing as he would need to take physical form, Mímir decided to take the visage of Godric. Slowly, his amorphous form turned into a tall, muscular man with a lion-like mane of wavy red hair and a beard to match. He had green eyes, peach-colored skin, wearing segmented red sword gauntlets adorned with gold fittings with armor to match. With red robes on his shoulder, his sword at his side, he made a rather stern and commanding figure._

 _If only they knew of how big of a softy and prankster he was. Mímir more than once believed that the myth of Klaus the Toymaker was based on an aged Godric, but he digresses._

 _Mímir entered as to what can only be described as a vestibule of knowledge. Shelves of books reached as high as the eye could see, with ladders going equally as high, with wooden floors and gas-lamps providing the ambiance. If he didn't know any better, Mímir could have sworn he entered an old library, not a child's mind. (7)  
_

 _Then there was the music. Slowly he followed it, eventually ending up at a fireplace, in front of which was a carpet, two comfy sofa chairs, a small bar table to place a lamp or such accouterment, and to the side, a wind-up gramophone – one that played perpetually despite no one spinning it._

 _In the chair sat Harry, reading what looked like the 1_ _st_ _edition of "Grimm's Fairy Tales."_

" _Was Chopin really necessary?" inquired Mímir._

 _Harry looked up as he closed his book and put it to his side, "Was dressing as Godric necessary?"_

" _Perhaps not, but I needed a form."_

 _Mímir sat in the other empty chair, "Rather old to read fairy tales aren't you?"_

 _Harry chuckled, "The original stories were nothing like we read to children today. The brothers understood what a children story should be like – dark and frightening to get the message across to impressionable children. Were once Cinderella cut off her step-sisters feet or had birds peck out their eyes, now we tell the children that she only forgave them or left them alone. Besides, the brothers hid their knowledge of the supernatural through their tales to pass on their knowledge – if you read between the lines of course."_

" _Truly?"_

" _Oh please, a hunter who comes in to kill the wolf before he got Little Red Riding Hood? Granted, it's a rather obvious one but still."_

 _Mímir nodded. "Fair point, at least that particular tale is rather clear-cut… Unlike some I know."_

 _The vinyl skipped and stopped playing. Harry sighed, "Is it that obvious?"_

" _Child, I have been in many minds, and despite my role in this school, I have sat upon the heads of some of the finest and brilliant minds in all of magic history. So believe me when I say that this" – Godric waved his hand at the shelves around him – "is not the mind of a child."_

" _I thought as such."_

 _Harry raised his hand as he summoned a book from one of the higher shelves. Mímir noted its appearance: red and black, with a key and lock, almost bulging from its size, with strings connecting to so many other books present around him, indicating that much of the knowledge in Harry's mind came from this particular memory. But what really caught Mímir attention is how it smelled of brimstone. (8)  
_

 _Harry stretched his arm to Mímir. "Before you read it, please understand that I never lied to anyone. I am, for all intents and purposes, an eleven-year-old boy – at least physically."_

 _Mímir finally understood what has bothered him about the kid. He knew of his real history – not the half-cooked story Gabriel told others – but he never understood how Harry recovered so rapidly after his encounter with Lucifer._

" _How did you do it then? Death was very clear that you would have to heal the long way."_

" _He wasn't wrong. I did need to heal – or rather, my body needed to heal. So, I found a loophole. I got Crowley to send my soul to hell but maintained a link with my physical form. I then got Gabriel to force my body to heal – warts, cuts, blemishes, pain and all. In essence, I diluted my sensation of pain to be able to handle it. Sometimes it was barely noticeable, other times it was unbearable, but I shudder at what it would have felt in real time. He did what he could mind you, but eventually, I was brought back up to heal and at least get acquainted with my new body."_

 _Mímir raised a brow. "What? Did you really think my height and weight in stone was due to healthy eating and exercise? I mean sure, it played a part, but my blood adoption by Crowley can only overcome so much of James Potter's and Lily Evan's inheritance. Trust me, I've seen their pictures – neither was particularly tall or burley. I mean, I still don't really understand how that reed of man – bless my father soul – managed to become such a great Auror."_

 _Mímir laughed, "A good woman can motivate a man to do many things."_

" _True. Orpheus traveled to the Underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. Makes you wonder how good she was in bed."_

 _Mímir burst out laughing, "Oh, you truly are your father's son."_

 _Harry chuckled before becoming solemn. "So… are you going to read that book or not?"_

 _Mímir looked at his hand. "How long was it?"_

 _Harry pulled down o his face with his hand, clearly worried about the answer he was about to give. "Give or take about thirty years." (9)  
_

 _Mímir sighed, "Well… let's take a look." He slowly unlocked the book, a bright light beaming from its pages._

 _In mental time, Mímir spend days going over everything learned while he was 'incarcerated' in hell. To Harry, it was almost instantaneous._

 _Mímir slowly closed the book, putting on the table to his side. "That was… illuminating. Been some time since I had that much information into me." He rubbed his brows in pain, "Tell me, how many times did you go insane from the solitude down there."_

 _Harry shrugged, "Lost track. After a while, it all kind of blends together."_

 _Mímir sighed in exasperation, "And here I thought I would only need a few sessions with you to get to know you. Boy, was I wrong."_

 _Harry laughed, "Don't worry Mímir, we have all the time in the world in here."_

" _Mímir?"_

" _Well I can't exactly refer to you as the Sorting Hat all the time, so I gave you a fitting name."_

 _Mímir smiled – it has been a long time since he talked to someone and wasn't treated as a mere object._

 _Mímir leaned back into his, Chopin starting up again in the background. "Well then – where do you want to begin?"_

 _Harry smiled and focused all his attention upon the visage of Godric Gryffindor, "Tell me everything you know about my father and mother."_

* * *

He would have continued talking with Harry, but he sensed the presence of Gabriel in the Hospital Ward and decided it was time to wake up.

The fact that he scared Mímir out of his mind with that… robotic monstrosity… was out of line.

 _It was still funny though,_ though Mímir, chuckling.

"Let's hope everything goes well for his Godfather at the trial."

* * *

 _October 12_ _th_ _, 2011 - Noon_

"Well that was easy," spoke Sirius almost nonchalantly.

"Admittedly, it was the fastest trial I ever had." admitted Edward.

"Did we really have to come here to eat though?" asked Remus.

"Hey, I haven't had ice cream in over a decade – let me enjoy my chocolate chip and mint," barked a newly freed Sirius.

Admittedly, three adults sitting outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in the middle of the day was somewhat odd. The fact that everyone walking by stared at Sirius in awe and fear sort of overshadowed it.

"In any case," began Sirius as he finished his cone, "Where did Dumbledore run off to anyway in such a hurry? He didn't even act as my character witness."

"Sirius, you had the handwritten and magically verified will of Lord Potter to clear your name – who help did you really need afterward?" asked Ted.

"I know but still…"

"Calm down Padfoot," spoke Remus as he rubbed the back of his best friend to calm his nerves. A task he was finding rather difficult as he just spend the night locked up in a DMLE cage due to his 'furry problem.' He didn't know what he did last night, but his shoulders were sore.

"I know Moony, but still."

Ted looked around before leaning in, the two former Marauders leaning in as well. "I heard rumors from my associates in the DMLE. Something happened in Hogwarts two nights ago that they are keeping hushed up for now. All I know is that somehow, Lucius was involved and they put a warrant out for him. Unfortunately, he managed to escape with what little he had left after the divorce and what Narcissa pilfered away."

"What of Draco?" asked Sirius with concern.

"Somehow, he was snuck out of St. Mungo's in the middle of the night without anyone noticing. Must have used a Silencing Charm to make sure no one heard his mad cackling."

Remus leaned back in his chair. "What of his valuables and such?"

Ted shook his head, "DMLE send word to Gringotts regarding closing his vaults, but the bastard managed to empty what he could carry. The artifacts, books and such he left behind. The gems and galleons he managed to pilfer into his Undetectable Extension Charm Bag are gone though. All of it went to Narcissa, including the mansion and the elves."

Sirius paused, "Should I be concerned as to how she plans to keep that home without a source of income? I doubt taxes have changed since I've been incarcerated."

"They have not," smiled Ted. "However, as the now reinstated Lord Black, it is your concern, not ours."

Sirius sighed. He was not ready for this, not until he got cleared by a Mind Healer after his stay in Azkaban. "I'll have a word with her. I know she has a mastery of something or other – she should be able to find work somewhere."

Remus nodded, "Indeed she shall. For now though, what of Harry?'

Sirius sighed as he crossed his hand and leaned on them to balance his weary head. "I don't know. He had Griphook deliver a letter detailing all he had done while he had the title, alongside the Black Ring. I mean, I understand he is in hiding, but still- I am his Godfather."

"No, Padfoot. You are simply a man on paper to him right now – he has no connection to you that he can recall. Give him time. Eventually – hopefully – he may come to us willingly on his own."

"We can only pray that day is someday soon, Remus."

Ted looked at his wrist, "Look, guys, I have things to do at the office and other cases to work on. Hopefully, we can all meet up at the Black home and catch up on everything. For now, I bid you all a good day."

Remus looked at Sirius, "I have things to take care of us well, Padfoot. With what James left me, I have to go to Gringotts and modify my vault plan. I doubt my lower-tier vault can hold the fortune know have."

Sirius chuckled, "Hopefully now you can buy some clothes that actually make you look decent rather than a traveling hobo."

Remus laughed as the friend he once knew surfaced more and more. "I'll see you at Grimmauld Place later tonight."

Sirius smiled as Ted and Remus left to their destination. He would have kept eating alone if not a few minutes later someone sat in front him.

The shock of recognition was not overlooked.

"Calm yourself, Sirius. You look like you have seen a ghost."

"To be fair, seeing your mug again is a shock in itself, Cyrus."

Cyrus Greengrass was a monster of a man. He is what people would imagine Lucius Malfoy would look like if he went to military school and kept up the physical routine. Short crop hair, piercing blue eyes, wide shoulders, and a figure that would terrify most. His stoic nature, shrewd business acumen, and overall – and pardon the phrase here – 'badass' persona is what allowed him to weather the shit-storm that was the First Wizard War.

Of course, being a magical powerhouse despite running a multi-million galleon worldwide shipping and import business played a hand in it as well.

Being respected by both the 'Grey' and 'Light' sides helped as well, but that could only buy so much when most of your family supported Voldemort. He regained the honor with effort, but it still took time and much compensation.

Despite his terrifying demeanor, he did, in fact, have one glaring weakness: his inability to say 'no' to his wife Roxanne – the most Slytherin Ravenclaw anyone has ever met – and his daughters Daphnee and Astoria – more so Astoria, since he started mothering her ever since her sister left for Hogwarts.

However, only two other people other than his family have ever been able to survive the force of nature that he is: Albus Dumbledore due to sheer power and age, and Sirius Black the Third, due to the sheer inability to 'give a fuck' as it were.

At times, Cyrus seriously considered how Sirius wasn't sorted into Hufflepuff since the only animal that came to mind when dealing with him was the honey badger, the only animal in existence capable of giving the middle finger to anything, including dragons.

Seeing as how Sirius survived Azkaban for over a decade none for worse, the theory held significant merit.

Cyrus chuckled, "Only Black, have ever been able to get under my skin with a few words as possible."

Sirius smiled, "Last time I checked, that included spells as well. Remind me again, what was our score before I was wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban?"

"You know it was 49-48 in your favor, just like you know that literally nothing could have been done about that. Fudge was like an ostrich with his head in the ground: only a fire up his egg-hole would have gotten him to see any different."

"Oh, I am not arguing that particular notion. I guess also say thank you for trying to pay for my lawyer fees – as misguided as the gesture was."

"How was I to know your cousin paid? You have to realize that she fooled us all in where her allegiances lie."

"Yes… she was a true Slytherin, through and through – she did what she had to survive with the hand she was dealt. In any case, any word and what they plan to do with Fudge?"

"Definitely being incarcerated for the remainder of his short future life in Azkaban plus a hefty fee straight out of his pocket to you."

"Is that before or after they go over his books to take back what he pilfered from the Ministry?"

Cyrus raised his hand in assurance, "Don't worry, my associates in the DMLE assure me he has more than enough to cover you afterward. And to ease your tension, he is being watched by Aurors 24/7 to make sure he doesn't make a quick escape."

"Good. What of Milicent and Bartemius?"

"Well, Crouch wasn't responsible for your trial in any way, so he is financially safe. He already gets enough flack for leaving his post the way he did during the war. Bagnold though…"

"Oh come on, don't tell me…"

"They are pushing the age card heavily, my friend."

"MERLIN DAMMIT!"

"Calm down, Sirius. She is pushing triple digits – she won't survive a week in Azkaban, regardless of the levels she is send to. Plus, she is the last of her family – she has nothing to give you for her fines."

Sirius shook his head, "Can't Ted at least remove some of her awards and recognition or something, just to soothe my wounded ego?"

"No amount of soothing can work miracles on an ego as inflated as yours," deadpanned Cyrus.

"Yeah, yeah, Cyrus, whatever. How about we cut the small talk and get to the matter which you have been trying to tiptoe to?"

"Always to the point with you, isn't Black?"

"Hey, when this is conversation is done, I am going straight to my girlfriend's mansion and making up for lost time, hopefully all in the bedroom; I have a decade of snu-snu to make up for." (10)

"Oh? Should we expect to hear the pitter-patter of tiny Black-Bones baby feet by next year end?"

Sirius shrugged, "Hopefully. I have names picked out and everything."

Cyrus just stared in shock.

"I was in prison for a decade, Cyrus. I had nothing to do but make a list of things I would accomplish when I got out and practice my Occlumency."

This caught Cyrus attention. "How powerful are we talking?"

Sirius gave a predatory smile, "Let's just say spending an extended period of time around Dementors gives one the ability to create very… unique mental defenses. Suffice to say, everyone around me will know if someone tries to get into my noggin."

"Then this conversation just got much easier. Were you aware that there was an active marriage contract between the Potter and Greengrass Houses?"

Only years of practicing Occlumency prevented Sirius from showing the shock that he was feeling inside. "Really? James never talked about."

"Mainly because it was written as a joke on our ancestors' part. I don't know the full details, the family journals were sketchy at best, but supposedly, Charlus Potter's grandfather rescued my great-great-grandfather from some sort of animal attack during an excavation in India. Neither wanted anything in return, but magic demanded a debt. Seeing no other option and seeing as both families were close despite our sides, they wrote up a Marriage Contract that would have never come to pass."

"How so?"

"For last few centuries, neither House has ever produced a female heir – until of course, I came along and fathered Daphnee and Astoria."

Sirius smiled, "Roxanne was always known for breaking the rules. Why don't you try for the third time?"

"Believe me, I tried. But apparently, two is enough for her."

Sirius gave Cyrus a long look. "She threatened you with the couch, didn't she?"

"This isn't the point of the topic. In any case, I knew the moment Daphnee was born that she would be expected to marry Harry Potter – she was informed of this early on after Astoria was born. However, despite Griphook claiming that Harry Potter is still alive and well, one thing doesn't make sense."

Cyrus reached into his pocket to take out a rolled out parchment, presumably the Greengrass copy of the Marriage Contract. He unfurled it and gave it over to Sirius to read.

"If Harry Potter is still alive, then why hasn't the contract enforced itself?"

Sirius blanched at this, "Pardon?"

"The contract is written in such a way that the moment Daphnee was born, it went into effect, effectively making her the fiancée of one Harry James Potter. However, over the years, it has fizzled out. There is an actual stipulation in it in which Daphnee should have been able to sense or even track Harry in time of need."

Sirius read over the contract very carefully making sure that he didn't miss anything. "Cyrus, believe me when I say that Harry is in fact alive. I read the letter he left me and went over everything he has done for me as temporary Lord Black. You have to understand, the House of Black magic would accept no Lord other than a Black by blood. There are only two heirs other than my niece Nymphadora who that can apply to – Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Believe me, he lives!"

Cyrus leaned into Sirius, "Then why won't the magic of the Marriage Contract aide in our search for him?"

Sirius rubbed his brow, realizing his search for Prongslet was about to become much difficult than he expected.

For there is nothing harder out there to find than someone who is actively trying not be found.

* * *

 **I hope this satisfied your guys itch for my story. And to end as I have started – with a movie quote.**

 **"I'll be back."**

* * *

 **(1) Can anyone get me the name of the guy who was reading the Stephen Hawking book in one of the later Harry Potter movies?**

 **(2) This is sort of a weird in-universe joke since Gabriel went into witness-protection as Loki at one point, which makes me wonder what the hell Fenrir actually was.**

 **(3) Yes, one of Harry's mental defenses is 'Five Night's at Freddy's".**

 **(4) 'Wolf of Wall Street' reference.**

 **(5) Umbridge reference.**

 **(6) Jim Carrey 'Truman Show' reference.**

 **(7) For a good reference, watch the 'Silence in the Library' and 'Forest of the Dead' episodes of Doctor Who. They are episodes eight and nine of the fourth series.**

 **(8) I got a lot of bitching over this, some thinking that this was the grimoire Harry mentioned earlier but no. This is just the physical representation of the time Harry spend in Hell. It's not all the knowledge he accumulated while rather, but rather the experience itself.**

 **(9) Just for reference, a month in the real world is a decade in Hell (based on** Dean''s **accounts).**

 **(10) I made a Futurama reference – deal with it.**


	23. Now We're Getting Somewhere

**Chapter 23: Now We're Getting Somewhere**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Hey, you guys!**

 **Finished this chapter a little faster than expected since I haven't really been watching the new Fall Premier shows and what not. Frankly, I prefer to start watching them a few episodes in after more reviews come out – no point to get invested in a show that's bad or going to fail.**

 **I did, however, watch Discovery, but I reserve my judgment until later. I still hate how they made Klingons look, but maybe the story can redeem them.**

 **Now to address some question you readers have been having.**

 **Many are pointing out that I am taking my time writing everything out. I counter by pointing out that the 1st Harry Potter book, depending on edition (or at least mine, which is the Scholastic Inc. version), is about 310 pages. The troll finally appears on page 172. Think about that – over half the book to get to that point, with a little over 100 pages to get from the end of October to the end of the school year. I will, however, admit that after this chapter, changes should become somewhat more noticeable compared to the source material.**

 **Many readers suffered panic attacks for my insinuation regarding the contract between Harry and Daphne. I only have one thing to say:**

 **AT WHAT POINT DID I EVER SAY THAT THIS WOULD BE A HARRY & DAPHNE STORY?**

 **Notice in my headings that I specifically don't mention pairings. I do this because unlike my attempts with having a Good Dumbledore, I managed to plan out unique pairings later on in the story. I will admit that one, in particular, is going to get me A LOT of backlash, but I will have a reason for it.**

 **Harems… they are things that can either break or make a story. To each his or her own tastes as it were. Even I am not prudish enough to admit that stories that I favored on this site have Harry with multiple wifes.**

 **THIS WILL NOT BE THE CASE!**

 **I only mention this because there is a particular plot line I have going that I want to go somewhere. Plus, everything I write in this chapter later is technically true. That doesn't mean however I want you guys to misconstrue what I am writing as favoritism or support of the idea or what not. I am only writing it like this because this is a fanfiction and the Wizarding World is rather Medival in its beliefs. I was merely trying to provide at least a LOGICAL reason for someone having more than one wife in the Wizarding World.**

 **I think I answered all the things that came up in reviews. Oh, I do want to point out that there is a poll on my profile regarding this story that I hope you guys can vote on. Its nothing too critical to the plot, more like something I am wondering about.**

 **Speaking of my profile – If I put up story ideas on my forum, will anyone read them? I have a Naruto Self-Insert Crack story rolling around in my head that don't think I will ever be able to write. On the other hand, I really want someone to take a crack at some of the ideas I have rolling around in my head. If I get enough support (PM or otherwise), I'll post all my story ideas in my forum. It should be linked on my profile page but message me if it isn't and I'll fix it.**

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

 _October 13_ _th_ _, 2011 - Lunch_

 _ **Sirius Black Pardoned!**_

 _All crimes committed by Sirius Black have been shifted onto Peter Pettigrew!_

 _Order of Merlin, First Class, removed from Peter Pettigrew and given to Sirius Black for his efforts during the war!_

 _Title of Lord Black returned to Sirius Black the Third from the still "missing" Harry Potter!_

 _Amelia Bones calls for a manhunt for Peter Pettigrew, an unregistered Animagus!_

 _Lord Black calls for modification to Azkaban wards to close up holes discovered by him, a now registered Animagus!_

 _Lord Black admits to taking his Wizengamot seat after extensive treatments at St. Mungo's to ensure no aftereffects from his "incarceration" in Azkaban!_

 _All this and more as written by Rita Skeeter._

Hermione finished reading the articles before putting down her paper and looking at Neville – they were sitting at the Ravenclaw table today – and asking him, "I thought Rita Skeeter was a muckraker at best – I barely saw anything twisted up or any outright lies this time."

"She does tend to play fast and loose with her Quick-Quotes Quill - they are like Self-Writing Quills except they exaggerate spoken words for use in journalism, so watch out for those – but honestly, it's what isn't said that speaks volume to the right people."

Hermione looked at Neville in confusion, "Really, how so?"

Neville put down his knife and fork before whipping his mouth. He _was_ trained as Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, despite his mother suspicions of him being a squib.

"First, notice the quotes around the words 'missing' and 'incarceration.' To the general public, it could be misconstrued as an emphasis on the word. To others, however, it's a giant _Lumos_ on something secret."

Hermione, a fan of puzzles, inquired further. "I can see how that would apply to Lord Black, him being thrown in prison without a trial and under suspicious circumstances. But how does that apply to Harry Potter?"

Neville nodded and straighten up, confidence slowly flourishing in the boy ever since he got his new wand. It turns out, he wasn't a squib at all; instead, the prolonged use of practice wands and wands of other witches and wizards had shot his self-control to shambles. The fact that he has been forced to use his father's wand to practice since turning eleven only made it worse. It would take time, but with the help of Professor McGonagall, both hoped he would achieve some level of stability by years end.

They were both getting annoyed by his blinding _Lumos_ spells to check his control.

"You are partially correct on Lord Black, Hermione. But you also must realize that such an injustice isn't just thrown under the rug, as it were. There will be inquires, there will be questions, and most likely, there will be blood."

Hermione nodded at that, "I can see how that would relate to Cornelius Fudge and Millicent Bagnold since one was responsible for throwing him in there and another for keeping him there illegally…"

"Ah, exactly Hermione – illegally. There has to be restitution for such a crime, should there not?"

Hermione tapped her chin, "So both are paying fees and fines to Lord Black… but why isn't that mentioned?"

"Because, my lovable little redhead," stated Harry as he sat down at the table with his meal, "the DMLE doesn't want a trial regarding that to be known to the public."

This confounded Hermione, "And why not?"

Harry gave her the critical eye, "Despite your outright admittance of being a bookworm, have you never read a mystery novel?"

Hermione shrugged, "Not really – they were usually graphic, so my parents didn't really allow me to read them."

"Tisk, tisk, such a rule follower – I thought we managed to get through to you about respecting authority and figureheads?"

Hermine blushed at that statement. While still not precisely blossoming, Harry's seeds of doubt have been planted quite deep within her. Using Quirrel as a perfect example, Harry attempted to justify that respect for a title should be earned through character, not past accomplishment and the word of others. Using famous Muggle figures helped cloud Hermione's perception of who deserves respect and for what. Eventually, she finally admitted to Neville and Harry – under fear of castrating both of them if they told anyone else – that she believed that Quirrel was, in fact, a poor teacher, despite whatever knowledge he may possess and whatever he has done in the past.

Both boys were also flabbergasted when she admitted that despite his record-breaking achieving Potion Mastery, Professor Snape simply could not teach nor nurture student growth. His misuse of power and favoring of his Slytherin was the cherry on top of the disappointment sundae for her. She kept up appearances of respecting him, but that was a façade he most likely already saw through.

Harry liked to quote Einstein to get the point across to Hermione: "I never teach my pupils; I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn."

Neither Snape nor Quirrell has ever done so.

"Alright – should I explain Neville or do you want to take a crack at it?"

Neville raised a hand, "No, no, go ahead – you seem to possess a talent for this sort of thing."

"Very well. You see Hermione, Amelia Bones most likely wants to track down where the Galleons that paid for Bagnold's and Fudge's silence came from. If the public were aware of this through the _Daily Prophet_ , then the individual responsible for bribing one or both of them would have taken action to ensure it wasn't tracked back to them. Granted, one of such affluence most likely already possess means to find this tidbit of knowledge on their own. But since no word has gotten out about any Pure-blood disappearing, the public would be at a loss – unless of course, the perpetrator has already taken steps beforehand to ensure there were no loose ends. However, since we three are aware of certain information **protected by a secrecy oath,** " said Harry a little louder to the students around them trying to listen in. "We know that the one responsible for the werewolves trying to attack this school already managed to escape. The capture request, however, is kept strictly in-house – not even Rita Skeeter is aware of this."

"Speaking of which, did they ever figure out what the werewolves were being paid to actually attack the school while Dumbledore was in it? I heard of Kamikaze attacks but still…"

"Oh no, you are correct for asking Hermione - that attack was a clusterfuck if I ever saw one."

"HARRY! LANGUAGE!"

Harry smiled, waving his hands apologetically, "Sorry, sorry. It's better then what Dean used to say when he got annoyed. In any case, according to what Poppy heard, the amulets had compulsion and confusion charms laced on top of them. Fun fact, while werewolves are immune to magic and have ridiculously powerful mental defenses against Legilimency, they are still susceptible to mental manipulation – be it through potions or if they simply don't realize it's there. Awareness is a big chunk of resistance."

Neville chuckled, "Explains the one that got away. They confirmed it was Greyback, right? He was probably the only one who didn't need to put it on to willingly attack Hogwarts."

Harry smiled at that. Finding out that the most feared werewolf in the Wizarding World was named Fenrir – real name or otherwise – made him suspect that the Maw of Fenris cult still existed at some point in the Wizarding World, with him being one of the last followers left. He never figured out why they kept changing the name back and forth - Fenrir and Fenris - but logically it fits: the Norse were European, and the notion of global dominance by werewolves sounded like Blood-purity propaganda.

In any case, no one questioned what happened that day Harry emerged for breakfast two days after the attack. His friends told him that the staff informed them that he was involved _somehow_ with the werewolves, but since the DMLE put the whole incident under a secrecy oath, the students figured it was above their pay grade as it were. Plus, since it was under oath, they couldn't tell their parents about it, which made it a self-contained. Besides, no one was injured, and only the werewolves died, what was to report?

Neville and Hermione didn't tell anyone about Harry's blood nature either.

Hermione argued that he would tell others about it when he got to know them better.

Neville just didn't wont to lose the betting pool.

Hermione gave him a smack in the back of the head for that, but in all fairness, even Harry laughed at that tidbit.

That wasn't to say that others weren't suspicious of what happened. Rumors were already circulating about the school of what transpired. Some said that Harry was an undercover DMLE agent working inside the school who was sent to protect Harry Potter when he expected to arrived. Others argued that he is a Dark Wizard in the making. A few even asserted that he was already a werewolf who merely defended his territory against outsiders infringing.

Harry cracked up at the absurdity of some of them. He did, however, markdown November 10th for when he had to appear in front of everyone basking in the full moon's light just to end the nastier once.

"Alright, so I get the Lord Black issue – tracking the gold to see where it came from to see who was responsible for filling the Minister's pockets. But what about Harry Potter being 'missing'?"

"I can answer that. Wotcher, Hermione, Neville, and Harry."

All turned to see Tonks approach them from the side.

Harry smiled, "You know, we should really pick a new nickname for you since you technically are no longer a Tonks per se. Have you considered going by… I don't know… Dora or something?"

The newly christened Nymphadora Black chuckled as that. As Harry predicted, Ted and Andromeda Tonks did, in fact, take the Black name – with no protest on Ted's side, as Tonks liked to joke. The fact his practice suddenly boomed in popularity was not lost on anyone.

"I've thought about it but… I've gotten used to Tonks. I can accept that when I start working for the DMLE, I will be called Auror Black and such… Maybe be I will give 'Dora' some consideration."

Neville looked up, "So it's true? They already got their claws in you?"

"Please," waved Tonks as she sat to Harry's side, "They had their so-called claws in me not a day after my mom filled the necessary Healer paperwork to have me registered as a Metamorphmagus. Truthfully, if I were taken back into House of Black sooner, I wouldn't have been surprised if an Unspeakable turned up at our doorsteps to offer me a post."

"Your that smart?" inquired Hermione.

"No, just that dangerous. But I am somewhat clever – have to be to get the necessary NEWTS to get into the DMLE. You do realize just how useful this ability of mine is, don't you?"

Hermione dropped her shoulders, "I am aware of it but… not much is actually written about it."

"Understandable, Hermione," interjected Harry. "However, through observation and deduction, one can at least gauge what Tonks is capable of."

"Oh? Do tell, MacLeod. All that I know about Metamorphmagus is by word of mouth and from what I could gather from journals of past ones."

"Well, let's start with the obvious. She can shapeshift any part of her body: hair, skin, nails, eyes, face, body, etc. If she had the proclivity for it, she could even hypothetically switch genders. That already means that if she could morph fast enough, she could escape from anyone and get in anywhere. You _can_ change genders, right?"

"I can, but since they haven't made clothes and robes that change with you, it seems counterproductive when you try to make a clean escape. Granted, it could work with certain Muggle garments, but I want to work as a Hitwizard or Undercover, so it is unlikely that will ever come up. Plus, why would I want to willingly change into a guy? Sure, I got curious once, but honestly? Not much of difference. I will at least _acknowledge_ that with all the nerve endings I had to add to the… groin area as it were… that it would, in fact, hurt like hell if one was to be hit there."

Harry and Neville quickly made a fist-bump (something Neville thought was a brilliant creation on the Muggles part) while Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Getting back on track. I can also assume that she can change her height and weight within reason. I don't see her being able to shrink to a size of a mouse or become as tall as a giant, but theoretically, if she had enough mass, she could do the latter. She could even become any animal she wants."

"Also true," nodded Tonks. "A predecessor of mine did, in fact, determine through experimentation that if one has more mass to work with, they could, in fact, become larger and create more muscles for strength. The issue came when he needed to become smaller. There was simply no easy way to get rid of that excess weight. And you are right, Harry – we can shrink ourselves to a limit, but we would be very pudgy as a result. We can try to shift into animals, but that particular talent is usually reserved for Animagus since it's challenging actually to move like an animal through shapeshifting via Metamorphmagus – it's a mental thing. Combine that with the fact that with the fact that every Metamorphmagus already has difficulty with our balance due to constantly shifting the center of balance and equilibrium, well…"

"You could get a hefty person falling and not being able to get up. When you have the chance, ask your father to explain the concept of 'density' to you, that might give you some idea."

This got the trio to look at Harry in confusion. On cue, Harry took out a sheet of parchment. "Watch."

He slowly started to fold it on itself, until eventually, he couldn't fold it anymore. "Notice how I managed to make this large sheet of parchment take up this little square of space? It still weighs the same, but folding it on itself makes take significantly less space. Can the same be done with excess mass?"

Tonks looked at Harry's hand in shock. "I… I never even considered that… I have to write my uncle, he may have access to some books in the Black Library that can support this." She quickly got up and started to walk towards the Owlery, mumbling "folding in on itself" to herself.

Hermione leaned in, "You do realize that you just created a monster, right?"

"Only if she manages to get around the female issue of being fat."

"Do none of you realize that never actually answered Hermione's question?"

"That was, in fact, my intention, Neville." chuckled Harry. "I wouldn't be surprised if it only dawned on Dora after she finished writing her letter to Lord Black. So I'll answer on her part."

Harry turned to a refocused Hermione as he continued his meal. "The Wizarding World was always aware that The-Boy-Who-Lived was alive based on the word of the Goblins. Then there was the letter he sent to Wizengamot when Lucius Malfoy tried to get the Potter Vaults. Finally, there was the fact that acted as temporary Lord Black while Sirius Black was getting his trial. All evidence points that the Wizarding World savior still lives and yet, where is he?"

"In hiding," said Hermione as it was the most logical thing in the world

"You would be correct since he would assume that all the Death Eaters who got off with the Imperius Defence still have very close ties to the Ministry and sit in Wizengamot. But honestly, he could easily get protection from the 'Light' side, the DMLE, or even Albus Freaking Dumbledore."

"Makes sense," slowly nodded Hermione.

"I personally think that the only reason they want him back is because of what he represents."

"How so?"

"It's simple. To the Wizarding World at large, Harry James Potter is one of three things: their savior from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the killer of the Death Eaters master, and - personally my favorite reason for him being in hiding – Most Eligible Bachelor in Europe."

Hermione nearly did a spit-take with her pumpkin juice. "You are kidding right?"

"Hermione, you must have realized that the Wizards are at least a hundred years behind Muggles socially, right? I mean, that still use quills and parchment. They still care about titles and landholdings, and they have magically binding Marriage Contracts. Think about it: Harry Potter's parents got married at 18 and had him at 20. Plus, he will be Lord Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. The only two people who will even come close to his social, political, and financial standing will be Lord Black and Lord Longbottom."

Hermione slowly turned to face Neville, as he waved playfully at her.

"That's right – you are currently sitting with Most Eligible Bachelor in Europe #2, with Sirius Black in #3 due to his advanced age of… 32?"

"He is 33 next month, Harry. But you forget, we magic folk live much longer than Muggles and maintain our prime for much longer, so age isn't really an issue."

"Thank you, Neville. Do you know see why so many of the female students give you the evil eye, Hermione?"

Hermione quickly blushed at that, "But… but… we are just friends! I am too young to think about marriage!"

"That's because your Muggleborn, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a girl who is in currently in the best position in this entire school – and pardon my language here – to get her hands on Heir Longbottom."

Hermione blushed even further while Neville smiled and turned, "Stop that Harry, look what you're doing to her."

"Fine, fine, I am sorry for insinuating something that isn't there Hermione, but you should still be aware of this. Didn't a Prefect explain this to you already?"

"I was told about social etiquette and proper behavior around wizards, not about this!"

"Acknowledge, but consider this as well – what if Harry Potter has the same mentality?"

This caused Hermione and Neville – as well as the rest of the students eavesdropping – to go silent. "What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone knows that Harry was raised by Muggles, right? What if he was still being raised Muggle to this day? What if he found something in his family vaults that disagreed with his Muggle values – like an existing Marriage Contract?"

Neville rubbed his chin, "The Potters are well-known for marrying out of love rather than agreement but still… that's a recent trend."

"Define recent."

"Four generations so… 100 to 120 years, give or take."

Harry nodded, "So it's still very likely that a distant ancestor made an agreement and it merely never kicked in. But in any case, that's still a theory – an unlikely one at that. It's more likely that as the last Potter, he realizes that he would be _hounded_ by families coming after him to marry their daughters. I wouldn't even be surprised if they made him marry more then one."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Don't give me that look, Hermione. When European's still had royals in charge, they just called them mistresses. At least other countries are open enough to admit that their kings married more than one – just look at King Solomon. Hell, if Neville's parents weren't still _technically_ alive, the same would be applied to him as well."

Hermione turned to her friend, "Is that true?"

(Neville had told Harry and Hermione about his parents when they inquired about his Winter Break plans. It is not something they want to bring up again, but it brought the trio closer together still.)

Neville rubbed the back of his head. "He isn't wrong. Legally, they can't force me to marry multiple wifes. But since my parents aren't exactly capable of making more heirs at the moment, certain parties have been pushing for a loophole. So far, my Gran has managed to fight off the vultures, but… she can only push back for so long." (1)

"You have to understand Hermione, in this society, blood and name mean everything. If they have to, they will demean themselves to ensure their line continues rather then watch it die off with their honor intact. Hell, why do you think they used to marry off young girls to men significantly older than them? It was partially politics and favors, but it was also because the girl understood that she had to carry on the family name. Remember the old saying Hermione: 'an heir, a spare, and a girl.' An Heir for the main branch, a spare for the branch family or if the heir dies, and a girl to marry into another family."

Hermione slumped into her seat. "So… you think Harry Potter is afraid to be married off to multiple wifes?"

"More than likely. As a nonactive Lord – one who has had **someone** represent him via his proxy for these years without his permission – it possible that the majority of the Potter funds have been locked away for safety by the goblins. Can you imagine what can be done with that fortune – in the right _and_ wrong hands?"

Neville nodded, "Didn't Headmaster Dumbledore hold the seats for House Potter as their proxy?"

"If he did, he isn't going to have them for long. Lord Black is probably going to receive a lot more power in the coming days – we can only wait and see. Do you understand now why Harry Potter is in hiding, Hermione? Yes, his life is in danger from the Death Eaters and other forces, but it also equally possible that one way or another, he would be pulled into some bizarre and awkward harem-like situation. I mean, men boast of wanting to have multiple partners, but it doesn't work in practicality, especially if more then three people are involved. That's not even considering the incredibly unlikely and equally horrifying thought that can break all the fair maidens hearts."

"Which would be…"

"That he is gay."

Utensils dropped all around them, causing Harry to look around. "Oh don't give me that, I've read your books."

Harry turned to Hermione, "Amazingly, while also very accepting of other religions, the Wizarding World is also ironically somewhat open regarding same-sex marriage. They have stipulations and rules to follow, but as the saying goes, 'out of sight, out of mind.' They do however have one clandestine rule though – never the heir."

Hermione tilted her head.

"If the actual heir ever showed the proclivity, then the spare would simply become the heir. But if there isn't a spare…"

"Then you better pucker up and deal with it and make an heir regardless of your sexual preference," spoke Neville nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be the first time. It was practically an open secret with some families – more so often than not with the Lestrange House."

"Well with a name like that, can you be surprised? Honestly, it because of these backward politics and laws that people like Susan are going to be put in a very awkward spot in a few years."

This finally caught Neville's attention as he was acting more of an observer as he was already aware of everything that Harry was saying. "What are talking about?"

Harry leaned in, "You recall that _Amelia_ Bones is from the branch family, right?"

Neville suddenly went bug-eyed, " _SHITE_! I forgot about that."

Hermione leaned forward, "Something I should know?"

Neville whispered to Hermione, "As long as the Heir of the Bones family – ie. Susan – is alive or part of the Bones family, legally, the future child of Amelia Bones won't be eligible for consideration."

"Huh?"

"In basic legalese, the future heir of the Bones family has to be conceived by Susan, regardless if her Aunt – as the member of the branch family – has children or not. Unfortunately, since Susan and her Aunt are the last of the Bones due to them being killed off during the war by You-Know-Who and his followers, she is in a very tricky situation with only two options. One, she either marries into a family that has a spare, which limits her choices considerably, since most magical families only have one child. So either she marries into a low-standing family that has kids to spare, or she finds a Half-blood or Muggle-born to marry. But knowing the people who make up the rules in Wizengamot, they will find a way to prevent that. The second option is that she marries whoever she wants but enters into an agreement where the first born becomes the heir of the family she married into, and the rest of her children take her name. Of course, the flaw in that plan is that she would have to conceive the first child and then manage to convince her husband to father more. You can see where that's going."

"Unless they manage to specify in the agreement exactly how many kids they can have, the husband can simply not give her anymore?"

"Correct Hermione. Which means lengthy negotiations and exchange of galleons will take place. That's of course not even taking in the fact if she can even conceive more then one child. This makes the second option rather like playing the long and risky odds. Personally, knowing all of this and talking with her aunt, she will most likely take option three."

Hermione was dreading hearing this, "And what exactly is option three?"

Harry shrugged, "Mistress."

Before Hermione got a chance to shout, Neville covered her mouth with his hand, "Hear him out, Hermione. Legally, it _is_ her best choice. Mistresses don't _necessarily_ have to marry into families."

Hermione slowly sat down thinking this over.

Harry went back to eating, "Hermione, wizards have worded their laws in such a way that a mistress can be recognized legally or not. Meaning, a legal mistress can be considered a wife of a wizard with all the necessary obligation vis-à-vis a normal marriage. Naming heirs become a challenge, but option two can be applied here much more liberally. But then there is the 'social' mistress as it were, in which a wizard merely gives a witch a child with no obligations and recognition to the baby what so ever. Think of it as a single mother raising a child after an accidental one-night stand."

"But… that's so barbaric." whimpered Hermione.

"Ah, but only in the short run Hermione. You forget, I said the wizard has no obligations for _that_ baby. That child's children, however, become fair game in the future. Remember, goblins have ways to track family lineages through their magic. Which means that if say, a family has no eligible heirs or dies off, well…"

It dawned on Hermione, "They have a spare in another family."

"DING, DING, DING! Give the lady a prize! It doesn't matter if the father willingly or unwillingly fathers an heir other then through his wife, laws are laws. Social mistresses are essentially long-term insurance policies for certain families. They may have hard lives in the beginning, but they get **very** powerful bargaining chips in the future if they play their cards right."

"But… that makes them sound like gold-diggers."

"Only to us Muggle-raised. You forget, they acknowledge this notion as the norm here. Plus, it is better than marrying into the family as the Black's did. I mean, Lord Black's parents were cousins – I am surprised he came out as healthy as he did," Harry quickly turned to Neville, "Bellatrix Black being the obvious exception."

"I am aware, Harry. Honestly, I thought her sister Narcissa was the same until she was divorced from Lucius – boy, was that an eye-opener for Gran!"

"Indubitably," stated Harry as he wiped his mouth. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a free period during which I would like to catch up on some reading in the Hogwarts Library. Our talk with Tonks suddenly wants to make me look up Animagi spells in the Charms Section."

"We will see you in class later in class, Harry," said Neville.

"Yeah… I'll see you guys later…" mumbled Hermione.

" _I really did do an info dump on her, but she had to know,"_ thought Harry worryingly. " _Hopefully she gets over it."_

As he was walking down the hall, a particular thought also crossed Harry's mind, " _Why do I feel like I've been rather exposition heavy in my talks and explanations lately?"_

* * *

 _October 13th, 2011 – A few minutes later_

Harry was sitting in the corner of the library away from the ever-vigilant eyes and ears of Madam Irma Pince. In any case, Harry managed to find a particularly dark corner in the Charms Section of the Hogwarts Library.

He started flipping through an advanced book of charms before he finally asked, "Were you followed?"

Out of the darkness emerged the Terror Twins of Hogwarts.

"How did you know…"

"…we were in the corner?"

"I have an outstanding awareness of my environment, which is how I knew you guys were giving me 'the look' during the meal, which is why is said where I would be out loud."

"Very clever…"

"…and astute of you, _Harry_."

"Thank you, but can we cut out the twin speak? It's hard enough as it is."

Fred chuckled, "You'll have to forgive us, it's a habit that's rather hard to break."

"Indeed. Plus, it helps to put up a rather nice façade, does it not?" continued George.

Harry chuckled, "Indeed it does. Should I be worried that I happened to catch the attention of the Weasley Twins?"

"You caught our attention when you flipped off the carriage and caught your cat when you were boarding the express."

"Your speech regarding families and inbreeding is what caught our notice later."

Harry took on his business face. "I repeat, should I be troubled about your intentions?"

"You do not," answered George.

"The reason for this meeting is four-fold." finished Fred.

This caught Harry's notice. "Go on…"

The twins nodded, taking turns making their points. "First off, we would like to apologize for our ponce of a brother Ron – we know he is an ass, but there is nothing we can do about it."

"Believe us, we tried."

"Trust me, he is a non-issue, but thank you none-the-less for apologizing on his behalf," acknowledged Harry. "Truthfully, I see him flunking out in the following years with his grades and _study habits_."

Fred shook his head, "Don't be so sure. Our mother Molly is somewhat close to the Headmaster, and our father is rather whipped. She makes a racket loud enough, Dumbledore will find a way to keep in him school to keep her calm."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "That bad?"

"Our eldest Bill ran away to Egypt to work as a Curse-Breaker and our second oldest Charlie ran off to Romania to study dragons, what do you think?" deadpanned George.

"That does, however, relate to our second point, which involves our sister, Ginny."

"Is she going to be a problem?" wondered Harry.

"You – not likely. Neville however…"

Harry rubbed his face down with one hand in annoyance, "My speech to Hermione hit rather close to home, didn't it?"

Fred nodded, "When the 'Harry Potter Adventure Book Series' was still in publication, our mother used to read them to her every day. She was convinced that her sweet little _red-headed_ Ginny would be the perfect Lady Potter to be. When he went into hiding, she switched her persuasion on to Neville. From what she has gathered from her _spy_ Ron, she is already starting to teach Ginny about Herbology so that she can talk to Neville about something he likes. So… you know… warn your friend if you could?"

Harry nodded, "But… seriously? She thought Harry Potter would marry her daughter because she looked like his mother? What, did she think he would have an Oedipus Complex or something?"

George shrugged, "We don't know what that is, but based on context, it's not something anyone wants to have?"

Harry rubbed his brow, "She is a Prewett, right?"

George nodded, "The last one of the once proud Ancient and Noble House of Prewett of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. How the mighty have fallen."

"I blame Roanoke," deadpanned Fred.

"Same," stated Harry.

Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a long piece of parchment and held it out to Harry, "We've been working on this little genealogy project ever since we heard your talk on the express."

Harry took the parchment, unfurled it, and was surprised by what he saw. "Impressive…"

"Not really," answered George. "We only had a month to work on it with what books we had available in school. We figure with your connection to Longbottom, you could manage to get access to those old-bloodline books."

"I'll see what I can do, but should you really be giving away your only copy to me?"

Fred shook his head, "Charmed parchment – its linked to a hub we keep locked away. Anything you write on that one will be updated to the main one, and anything we write on ours will be sent to you as well. We also modified it so that you can apply the Geminio Charm to it and give to someone else. The copy will automatically link to the hub and so forth."

Harry smirked, "Neat. Maybe I can make a copy for Hermione and see if she can track down the descendants of Squibs in the Muggle World."

The twins paused. "That actually never occurred to us."

Harry smiled, "Don't worry, people always miss the little things. Besides, the fact you managed to make this in only one month already shows that you two are smarter then you appear."

"Well, the Sorting Hat did want to put me into Slytherin and George into Ravenclaw, but we argued it would be better if we were both placed Gryffindor." (2)

"Ah, so a True Slytherin and a Humble Ravenclaw. Any other surprises you want to drop on me?"

"Our brother Bill wanted to go to Ravenclaw, and Charles almost got sorted into Hufflepuff. Honestly, I think only Ron got into Gryffindor because he had nothing that would have put him into other houses. We were honestly surprised that Percy didn't get into Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but he has been mellowing out ever since he started dating Clearwater, so we're giving him some slack for wanting to work in the Ministry as Mom expects. Maybe we will ask him where the Hat almost put him."

Harry was surprised, "Huh. So the oldest goes where no one dares to go for hidden secrets, and the second oldest is a hardworking and brave dragon tamer… it does line up rather well, doesn't it? I mean, it's too soon to tell with Percy, but still."

"We found it funny too, which is why we didn't tell anyone else about it. If mom knew that her eldest almost didn't get into Gryffindor, she would have blown a casket."

Harry smiled, "Must be your grandmother Cedrella Weasley née Black influence. Should I be concerned that both your dad and mother technically have Black blood?"

Fred shook his head, "Very distant cousins, we checked. Cedrella Black – Dad's mom – was from the Arcturus Black's end and Lucretia Black – Mom's aunt – was from Sirius Black the First's end. There is a hundred years of dilution and no direct connection, so no issues there."

Harry nodded, unfurling the parchment more and more, realizing it was charmed to be more massive then it appeared, "Have you guys considered petitioning Lord Black to add Cedrella Black into the family again? I heard she was banished since she married a Weasley, but I doubt Sirius has the same preconceptions as his ancestors. Plus, Lucretia Black was never taken off when she married a Prewett, so maybe something can be worked out from that end." (3)

"We thought about it, but George and I agree that while it wouldn't do much since Dad would have to ask Lord Black to be recognized as a Black, Mom would do everything in her power to prevent that. I mean, she wants our family to appear as 'Light' as possible by siding with Dumbledore and Blacks are still considered a 'Dark' family."

"We did, however, agree that the notion has merit," added George. "Just not yet."

Hary shrugged, "Wouldn't hurt to at least inquire. Besides, I heard somewhere that Sirius was a prankster of renown when he attended Hogwarts. Maybe you can try to connect to him through that channel."

Fred was surprised, "Really? Who knew."

"Apparently Professor McGonagall – why do you think she refers to you as the second coming of the Marauders behind your backs?"

Fred smiled, "I guess getting to our next point suddenly got much easier. In essence, we want to work with you."

Harry furled up the parchment, "With me?"

"We are not foolish enough to believe that you will work _us_ ," continued Fred.

"You know things," pressured George. "Things we will never have a chance to find out locked up with our family or while studying in this school. Everyone knows you were somehow responsible for stopping the werewolves from getting in."

Hary raised a finger, "But that wasn't with magic."

"True, but that doesn't deter from the point. Newton Scamander was a lowly Ministry employee until Augustus Worme of Obscurus Books commissioned him to write the first edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. It took him years of studying and travel, but eventually, he became the famed Magizoologist everyone in the Wizarding World knows. We want you to be our Augustus Worme."

"I don't follow," pressed Harry.

"We keep telling our mother that we want to open a joke shop in Diagon Alley – that is partially true," started Fred. "What we really want to do is set up a laboratory to _experiment_ with magic, with the shop serving as a front and for funding."

Harry slapped himself in the head, " _That's_ why you keep pulling pranks! You're not doing this for fun, your performing experiments, and product testing!"

George gave his best attempt at an impish smile, "I thank Merlin every day when that Muggle-born 7th year Ravenclaw explained the Scientific Method to me back when I was a firstie."

Fred took out a folder and presented it to Harry, "We are still 3rd years, but we managed to read ahead with our brothers older books during the summer. We do our potion experiments in school by pilfering from Snape. Never anything big – for that, we order from what we make by selling to others."

Harry looked up as he was flipping through the files, while Fred pressed on. "Did you really think that we alone could pull off as many pranks as we are accused of? We are occasionally telling the truth when we say that we aren't responsible for a prank gone wrong."

Harry chuckled as he kept reading, "I got to say, some of these ideas have potential George."

"Hey! Why can't I be the one who makes the ideas up?"

"Because Fred, you are clearly more of the businessman compared to your twin - he most likely is the executioner of the ideas you come up with. Without you two finishing each other's sentences and acting like the other with your Forge and Gred shtick, your differences are rather apparent."

Fred smiled, "Fine, fine, that wasn't a jab or anything – we admit that we each have our strengths."

"And I wasn't kidding when I said there some good ideas here. If the DMLE ever catches wind of your idea for Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and Shielding Cloths-Line, they may actually steal them and make Unspeakables create them."

"Are you serious?" asked Geroge almost in wanderlust.

"Oh, most definitely. Some of the stuff here for your joke products like the Skiving Snackboxes could make you a lot of money. Your Explosive Enterprises _may_ run into some issues since some of the ideas you have here are dangerously close to crossing from 'Grey' to "Black' in danger level. I think the WonderWitch Line is definitely going to be an issue with Love Potions – even if fake or underpowered – legally wise, and I would altogether get rid of the Muggle Magic Line."

"That's more for Dad than anything else," pointed out Fred.

Harry took close their folder, took out one of his notebooks and started writing down things on paper for them. "In that case, consider instead going into the Muggle World at your earliest convenience and buying some Muggle board games and the like. The Wizarding World has no laws against using Muggle ideas to influence your work, so you get some samples and your turn them 'magic.'"

Fred and Geroge looked over to what he was writing, "And your writing what, exactly?"

Harry finished up before giving the twins the folder paper, "Consider this my first contribution as part of the New Marauders – just some ideas as to what you can turn magical from the Muggle World without Wizengamot rising a stink regarding misuse of muggle items. The laws are written in such a way that as long as the items maintain their original use, they don't violate the laws. Ergo, if a muggle toy is made magical but still works as a toy, it doesn't violate the law. But if say a car is made to be able to fly, well then that's an issue – unless of course, you make it unnoticeable to Muggles." (4)

Harry noticed that the twins visibly paled when he mentioned the flying car as they took his paper, "We will remember that."

Fred opened up the paper and started reading the list Harry made, "We will have to ask the Muggle-raised students about these items, but since you wrote them done, there shouldn't be much issue right?"

Harry shook his head, "None that I am aware of. You could write to your brother Bill to make sure since he is a Curse-Breaker and works at Gringotts… or ask Percy since he is already studying to work in the Ministry."

"Why should we ask Percy?" Fred asked Harry.

"Consider it like an olive branch, a sign that you trust him enough with this to inquire and make sure what you plan to do is legal. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have a man on the inside who would tell you ahead of time if Wizengamot planned to change certain laws that would hinder or benefit you."

Now Fred gave his best attempt at an impish smile, "That's very Slytherin of you, Mr. MacLeod."

Harry pointed at his House Crest, "I may be a Gryffindor," pointing at his green tie, "But I was and still technically a Slytherin – never forget that."

Fred did his best to contain his laugh, "Only a fool turns his back on a snake."

George pressed on as he pulled a differently folded parchment from his pocket, "And only a bigger fool comes to a negotiation without an ace-in-the-hole."

Before he got the chance to ask, both twins pointed their wands at the parchment and spoke in unison, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Writing quickly appeared on the parchment as it opened up. Names, hallways, guides, words – all appeared before Harry's eyes as what seemed to be a map opened up before him.

"Something we knicked from Filch's office our first year here," began Fred.

"Took us a long time to figure out the activation and deactivation phrase but it was worth it. This here is our 'inheritance' from the greatest group of pranksters that ever walked these halls – the Marauder's Map!"

Harry looked on the front page and noted that it was in fact that it was in fact called that.

Which pissed him off.

"Shouldn't it say Marauder _ **s'**_ Map instead of Marauder _ **'s**_ Map?"

Fred facepalmed himself, "Oh not this again…"

George, on the other hand, was ecstatic, "I knew! I told you it was wrong! Since there were more than just one Marauder, the name _is_ grammatically incorrect!"

"Fine, I owe you twenty galleons. Can we please get back to our fourth point for talking to our fellow New Marauder?"

"Oh, right sorry. Proceed Fred."

"Thank you, George. Now… you see Harry, this map here shows us every nook and cranny of this school. Every hidden passageway and password, everyone's name and location, every dirty little secret this place has to offer. Basically, if we want to find something or someone on school grounds, we have means to do it."

"The enchantments on this parchment are so powerful, that it can even show us a person's name regardless of what they try – Disillusionment Charm, Invisibility Cloaks, Polyjuice Potion, Metamorphmagus, and Animagus; can't confirm the last one, but it makes sense. So, can you guess what happened when we tried to see your name, Harry?"

A chill actually ran up Harry's back as he stared at the map as it showed the three of them in the library. Or rather, it showed 'George Weasley' and 'Fred Weasley' talking to 'Harry -.' His name apparently was just a black blob.

He didn't want to kill the twins – actually liked them.

Harry slowly looked up at them, weighing his options.

"Now it scared the crap out of us when we saw this back in _September,_ but instead of telling a teacher and exposing our greatest asset, we decided to see what you would do."

This actually shocked Harry, " _Didn't see that coming."_

Geroge continued, "So here we are, _observing_ you for over a month, and what do we see? Nothing that screams imposter, evil-doer, Dark Wizard, or anything in between."

"Protecting the school from werewolves sort of sealed the deal as it were," finished Fred.

"So, knowing that have already warned you about our family, invited you to be part of our group, AND showed you our greatest weapon for mischief…" started Fred.

"… can you please explain why your last name is blobbed out of something that is most likely linked to the school's wards, something that we never imagined could actually be confounded?"

Harry looked at the twins, fear present in their eyes despite the joyful smirks of their facades. They evidently considered their options on this gamble, hence why they waited a day after he got out of the Hospital Wing to present themselves.

" _King's Gambit, huh? Left themselves completely open to defeat if anything goes wrong… well, nothing ventured, nothing gained as the saying goes… something like this should be rewarded."_

"Tell me… how good are your Occlumency barriers?"

Fred smirked, "Managed to make sure the Headmaster and his pet snake can't rummage in our minds, what does that tell you?"

George pressed on, "Admittedly, we focused more on mental defense rather than the side benefits of Occlumency, so our expertise is rather skewed. If anything, we simply figured out how to hide our thoughts _specifically_ from the two, so hard to tell how we would deal with others."

"Already better than most admittedly," pondered Harry. Before either got a chance to rebut, Harry had a finger on both their heads, a slight glow coming from all three set of eyes. What felt like hours to them was actually seconds in real time.

"What… how…" started Geroge.

"What did you do?" finished Fred.

"Just tested your shields."

"But… that wasn't Legillimency."

"I am aware, Fred. But as Professor Snape once asked, I can't perform Occlumency nor Legilimency. He never asked if I can perform something similar," smiled Harry. "And you two weren't kidding: your shields are up to par. It seems like your sparring matches with the like of Albus and Snape have made your shields top-tier. Took me a while to get in without the brute-force approach, but I can truthfully say that no one can sneak into your minds without alerting you guys."

Fred and George smiled, "We owe Bill _so much_ for sending us those Occlumency books."

"I am honestly thankful he only sends you the books on Occlumency; if you were that creative with mind _protection_ , I would be terrified to think what you could do with mind _intrusion_."

"That good?"

Harry pointed at each brother, "George seems to have more leanings toward Occlumency, but you Fred are one sneaky bastard… you both ever get a chance, I am so introducing you two to my Uncle Gabriel. He can teach you things about the mind that would terrify _Voldermort_."

Shock and bulging eyes were all that Harry saw in the teen's faces.

"Now comes the hard part," Harry said as he clapped his hands. "Are you two willing to step over the edge?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have no fear that you two can keep my secret. I dread that knowing my secret, you would be dragged into my gravitational pull. Are you two ready to travel to the ends of the Earth with me?"

The twins looked at each other for confirmation, "As the saying goes, 'May you live in interesting times.'"

"We came to you because we want to work with you – everything said since we have started, has only strengthened that claim."

Harry smiled, "Good. As a wise man once said, 'The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other.' Loyalty is nothing without trust. And for there to be trust, there must be no secrets – besides the few we _truly_ can't share. So, I ask again…"

Harry closed and opened his eyes to reveal his Sight to the twins, "Can you two keep a secret?"

* * *

 _October 20_ _th_ _, 2011 (5)  
_

"Huh," said Harry as he read Dean's latest letter. "So you _can_ cure vampirism, but only before the first feeding. Wouldn't want to be Dean in that position."

* * *

 _October 24_ _th_ _, 2011 (6)  
_

"Hey Remus, come take a look at this."

"What is it, Sirius? I am kind of busy prepping for Ted's and Andromeda's move here."

"Oh, calm down Moony. Were just labeling all the necessary stuff before the clean-up crew Riplclaw recommended comes in to fumigate and cleanse this place of all the dark juju my mom left behind with Kreacher."

A dust-covered werewolf finally entered the foyer to see Sirius sitting in a chair and reading a letter, "So who wrote to you, Padfoot? A missus you once knew claiming you fathered her child?"

"Don't even joke about that Moony – I have my heart set on Amelia for that. Besides, I read and burn those letters in private, while making a ledger for blackmail if the need ever arises. No… this is a letter from Hogwarts by two kids named Fred and George Weasley."

"Weasley? As in Molly's kids? She made more?"

"Hey, she was always the ambitious one. They are writing to see if there is any way they can meet up and talk with me, their great-uncle. I mean, I knew Arthur was a Black through Cedrella, but to think they want to actually associate with me… In any case, read this line here."

Remus took his letter and read at the line he indicated, eyes widening, "We solemnly swear that we are up to no good'… you don't think…"

"Peter did lose it in our last year. We didn't need it by that point but still… to think it managed to survive for so long…"

"If they managed to find the map, you think they managed to find our other stashes as well?"

"No, we never got the chance to charm the map to lead to them. It's up to chance for anyone who gets lucky and actually finds one of them or not."

Remus read further, "Still… they seem willing to open up lines of communication… maybe their mother doesn't know?"

Sirius nodded, "Makes sense – her head is firmly up Dumbledore's arse. Arthur, however… yeah, I can work from that angle. Let me look into his boys first before I make any rash decisions; Albus has eyes and ears everywhere at the school. It's a wonder they managed to get this letter to me as it is."

"How did you get the letter since I didn't hear an owl come?"

"Funniest thing actually – they got a Hogwarts elf to deliver it to me. Apparently, Grimmauld Place doesn't prevent elves from popping in, only witches and wizards. It seems like they managed to find the secret path into the kitchen and befriend the cooks there so that Dumbledore won't know about."

"Huh… never would have even considered it; they have potential as Marauders. Still, this last passage here about keeping an eye on the school on Halloween, what do you think that's about?"

"Seeing as it _is_ Halloween and the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat, my money is on the Potter Luck somehow kicking in and causing a storm. I'll pass my concerns to Amelia so that she has a team on standby, but it's hearsay for now."

"Fair enough Padfoot. By the way, where's Narcissa? I thought she was helping us out."

"She went shopping. Said something about pre-ordering furniture to replace the horrible decor Aunt Walburga left behind."

"That's nice of her. Maybe she'll buy something for herself as well. I saw her asking Dobby to burn all the clothes and jewelry Lucius brought for her when they were married that had charms and hexes attached to them… The number was more then I felt comforted with."

Sirius frowned, "I'll make a note of it and increase her allowance when I stop by Gringott's next time – I will not have my cousin counting pennies and looking over her shoulder ever again. For now, I got a letter to write to the New Marauder's…"

"It's Marauders', not Marauder's, DAMN IT! Every day I regret not spellchecking the thing before we finalized our spellwork."

* * *

 _October 28_ _th_ _, 2011_

"So the Alpha Vampire is African American… The legend of vampires burned by sunlight seems ironic considering he probably lived in Africa for the majority of human history. But Dad… what are you playing at? I get resurrecting Sam and Samuel to make everyone else your personal 'Charlie's Angels,' but what can possibly be so important in Purgatory. Gabriel must have warned you about the shit in there. And what about Sam's soul? You pulled his body out of Lucy's cage, but not his essence? No, something is going on here, someone is pulling strings from behind the curtain…"

* * *

 _October 31_ _st_ _, 2011 – Dinner_

It had been a fascinating few weeks for Harry after he told the Weasley twins some of his secrets.

No, he didn't tell them he was Harry Potter, but he was an open book about most other things.

The talk about Hunters and supernatural monsters frightened them, but knowing there were people out there keeping Muggles safe alleviated them somewhat. They wanted to write a letter to a second cousin on their Mom's side in the Muggle World. They weren't even sure if he still had the same position since or was even alive since he wasn't talked about in the household nor have they heard from him in years. They knew he was a squib and that he married a Muggle somewhere in America and had a kid named Garth, but that was it (7). He assured them that if they could track him down without their parents knowing, they could ask him about it but it was a longshot.

His explanation of angels and demons and Heaven and Hell actually got them to stay away from him for a few days. Not out hate, of course, but more so out of the fact that the world was so close to Armageddon and no one even knew about it. When they met up again after processing everything, they said that they looked up if seers could see the end of the world.

Turns not, there's no clear answer on that matter.

That actually scared them even more since technically, the world could still end and a seer would predict it.

Playing Quidditch with them calmed them down after a while.

Despite not understanding the sport and having the ability to fly by his own power rather than brooms, Harry still had unnatural skill at using the cleaning utensil. Wood happened to catch their practice and chastised the fact that one had to be 2nd year to join the team. Frankly, he was looking for anyone to replace the poor excuse of a player they found for a Seeker – not even the brooms Harry got them could help out.

He at least promised Wood to give Quidditch the benefit of the doubt and try out for the team next year.

In any case, Halloween finally arrived. The school woke up to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus, which got him excited since he has been trying to be friendlier with the rest of Gryffindor. Ron, however, was working with Neville; it was hard to tell whether Ron or Neville was angrier about this.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Harry quickly got the House points when he demonstrated his wordless casting of the spell – something that nearly got Flitwick to fall off his chair. If they only knew he wasn't using his wand for that but instead his natural abilities.

Seamus had some difficulties at first, but Harry quickly showed him how to do it properly.

He still managed to somehow set it on fire – in the air no less. Flitwick gave him points and told him to see him after class.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Neville snap. "It's Wing- gar-dium Levi- o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Neville rolled up the sleeves of his robe, flicked his wand, and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Their feather rose off the desk and floated above their heads till it reached the ceiling.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "That's wonderful Neville! You finally managed to get your magic under control. Oh, Minerva will be so pleased."

Ron was in a terrible mood by the end of the class.

The rest of the day was surprisingly quiet. When Harry and Neville met up with Hermione during the feast – not each others table since a feast required everyone to sit at their House tables – she told them she managed to get her feather up on the first try as well. Managed to get Ravenclaw a sweet point infusion before month's end. (8)

" _Haha, 'sweet'… candy pun on Halloween."_

Harry still couldn't help but take in the sights as he sat in the hall. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar.

" _Seriously? Do they not realize that people don't fall forward when they faint?"_ thought Harry (9). Technically, he was already aware through Mímir that 'Quirrell' would most likely carry out his plans today of all days, but it was still funny to see.

It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through!"

Hary quickly shouted, "But aren't the Hufflepuff and Slytherin dorms located in the dungeons?"

This caused everyone to freeze up and look at the Headmaster.

"Oh… of course Mr. MacLeod, forgive for my oversight… it was made in a moment of panic. Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, please escort your Houses to their respective dormitories. Twenty points to Gryffindor for that observation, Mr. MacLeod."

As they climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, Percy leaned into Harry, "How did you notice?"

"Notice what?"

"Notice that Slytherin and Hufflepuff shouldn't have left with just their Prefects?"

This caught Harry's ire, "Why didn't you?"

"I don't know – I already asked the other Prefects, and none of them noticed either. What whispers I heard from Ravenclaw makes it seem that they didn't notice as well."

" _That's not right… Something is very wrong here…"_ thought Harry. "How certain are you that an outside force is at play?"

Percy started sifting through his pockets. "Most don't know it, but a Remembrall glows other colors for different things we forget (10). Red for something physical, blue for something mental, green for something planned, and yellow for an answer that has been forgotten. But there's another color that almost never comes up since it is usually too weak to pick it up magically."

Percy took out a little babble from his pocket. "I got this high-end model the moment I was declared a Prefect to help me out in such situations. Look at it."

The smoke inside the glass ball was pure black.

"Black for when one is spelled to forget. For it to be so much smoke for one little snippet of info to be completely ignored makes it seem like someone was determined to make sure that either Hufflepuff or Slytherin was attacked. I may not like Slytherin, but even they don't deserve to be attacked by a troll."

Harry looked at Percy in a new light, "You do care about the students."

"I may have a stick up my ass at times, MacLeod, but it's not without reason. We live in a world where one can die with a wrong flick of the wand or one wrong ingredient in a potion. Someone has to make sure rules are followed, and everyone is kept safe – even if the rule enforcer has to be despised for it to work."

Harry nodded, "You have earned my respect, Percy Ignatius Weasley. This is not something I say lightly."

Percy stopped outside the entrance to Gryffindor Dorms as he took count with Harry at his side, "That's everyone. Get in Harry."

Harry pulled Percy to the side before he could get the picture frame to open up. "How much do you trust me, Percy?"

The Prefect paused and considered his words, "You got my brothers to open up and actually ask for my advice about the legality of some of their ideas. If you managed to convince them actually to think in regards to the harm they could bring, then you have already earned my gratitude."

"Go easy on the twins; they actually have a pretty brilliant reason for their 'hobby' as your mother puts. When they trust you enough, ask them for their _real_ plans after they finish Hogwarts. In any case, I need you to wait outside for me."

"Why?"

"Tell the rest of the Prefects and Professor McGonagall your keeping watch to make sure the troll doesn't come up here for some reason. I need to go to Hufflepuff to make sure Susan is okay."

"Susan Bones? Why would you… Oh…"

"Yeah. Her aunt is the head of DMLE and the werewolf attack earlier this month did fail. Nice way to get back at her confounding a troll to go to Hufflepuff dormitories after sneaking it inside the school."

Percy weighted his options as he clenched his fist open and shut. "Can you sneak back without anyone noticing?"

"The twins have shown me how."

Percy nodded, "Go before anyone notices. I'll make sure they don't notice you're gone."

Harry nodded, "Thank Percy, I owe you. By the way, did the Sorting Hat want to place somewhere else besides Gryffindor?"

Percy looked around to make sure no one was listening, "He said I would do well in any House, but I choose Gryffindor since my brothers were already there."

"Oh, you sweet naïve fool. You have _got_ to ask the twins were the hat _actually_ wanted to sort your family. But that's a talk for another day – I have a Hufflepuff to save!"

Percy started to turn before thinking, "How are you going to get there without…"

" _Frustrationes deflectere!"_ chanted Harry as he became invisible. (11)

"Huh… Disillusionment Charm… that will work."

* * *

While chaos was occurring in the school, a shadow was crossing down the third-floor on the right-hand side of the castle. As he approached the door that at the beginning of the year Albus Dumbledore said was forbidden, the figure took off his hood, revealing a turban covered head.

"Soon Master… soon you will have what you desire…"

Professor Quirrell took out his wand and pointed at the locked door. " _Alohomora_ "

As the door unlocked, the possessed Professor entered the now open room to see the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor.

It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at him.

"Oh, my…"

" _Leave Quirrell… I am too weak to help you against this beast…"_

"Of course Master."

Before Professor Quirrell even had the chance to close the door, someone pushed him in. Quirrell never saw the face of the one who did.

Which was technically the point since Harry was camouflaged to near-invisibility.

Quickly casting a Silencing Charm and an overpowered Anti-Alohomora Charm on the now again locked door, Harry pushed against the pounding frame.

Only he heard the screams and breaking of bone that sounded through the door. To the rest of the school, there was only silence. Harry didn't stop pushing until he felt a dark entity finally leave his vicinity.

"Well, that was somewhat anticlimactic. Figured the spirit would have a backup plan or something for such a situation. Oh well, Mímir will know by tomorrow that whatever was possessing Quirrell is gone now."

Harry silently undid the two charms that he practiced the last two weeks for this very situation. Mímir knew that the entity that was possessing the dead – yes, dead, possession is a one-way deal, no way to rescue the possessed – professor was after whatever Dumbledore has hidden in the room. He didn't know how he managed to convince the staff to set it up like this, but Mímir thought that memory charms or compulsions were involved.

It was only when Harry started to walk away when he thought back to the Headmaster's beginning of the year speech. "You know, its funny – he did say that anyone not wishing to die a very painful death shouldn't enter that room. Guess Quirrel didn't listen."

* * *

 _Same time, a certain pizzeria in Chicago_

Death didn't know why he favored this particular pizza joint all places, but he preferred their pies over others he has tasted over the years. In any case, he was enjoying his meal in peace and quite when he suddenly sensed a dark presence on the other side of the world.

Slowly chewing his pizza piece, he thought out loud, "Haven't felt that soul in some time… Seems like he split it into multiple pieces…"

He wiped his mouth with a napkin before taking a glass ball out his coat that held a black mist inside of it. "Always wondered what crept out of that boy's scar all those years ago. Hope he manages to get the rest of Tom soon – less paperwork for me."

Death slowly went back to eating his pie after putting away the soul fragment of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. (12)

* * *

 **(1) Technically true. No actual law forced royalty to have mistresses or concubines to produce more heirs, but it was considered a norm. Last time I checked, people are susceptible to social pressures. Besides, this is the Wizengamot we are talking about here – blackmail and bribery will be involved somehow in the future.**

 **(2) Yeah, no way was I making Fred and George purely Gryffindors. The same will apply to most other Weasley's.**

 **(3) I am really pushing the 'three-blood-families' thing regarding the Weasley kids.**

 **(4) Cause and effect are going to be my bitch when I write the second year.**

 **(5) Season 6, Episode 5, "Live Free or Twihard."**

 **(6) Season 6, Episode 7, "Family Matters".**

 **(7) That's right – I made Garth Fitzgerald IV a Prewett through one of the squib lines. Garth is 28 right now for future reference. For reference, Garth makes his first physical appearance on the show in episode 8 of Season 7, "Season 7, Time For A Wedding!". Why did I bring him in? Because I needed a way to get someone for the Wizard World into the Supernatural one and some twisted part of my soul wants to see what will happen if the twins meet Bobby.**

 **(8) No Ron taunting = No crying Hermione in the bathroom.**

 **(9) You know I heard this mentioned from time to time, so I actually looked into it. Numbers say it's a toss-up based on what you are doing at the moment. However, the bodies natural mechanics makes it more likely that you will fall backward (knees give out and bend backward, ergo wait shifts causes you to fall back.)**

 **(10) Had to give a better reason for the bauble actually being valuable and useful.**

 **(11) The Disillusionment Charm is never actually spoken, so I just translated 'light deflection.' It would explain why it needs to be paired with the charm to make your footsteps silent.**

 **(12) I should really explain the ending. In the book, Albus has only started to suspect Horcruxes by maybe the end of the second book. Ergo, in my story, not even Mímir is aware that the shade that possessed Quirrell was Voldemort. He knows Quirrell is possessed, but he doesn't know what. Also, that soul shard didn't go to Death since that shard needs to return to Albania to found later and turned into a homunculus. No, all that Death noticed is the shard that was removed from Harry reacting to the shard that was removed from Harry. As of right now in my story, only Death is aware that Voldemort made Horcruxes.**


	24. What Box? I Don't See A Box

**Chapter 24:** **What Box? I Don't See A Box...**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

 **Hey, you guys!**

 **I am back, and I am pissed off. (No I am not)**

 **By popular demand, here is the next chapter.**

 **WARNING – don't drink anything when you read the end.**

* * *

 **1\. A question that started to buzz around in my head recently can be summed up as such:**

 **Why has JKR never rebutted the fanfiction interpretations of an evil Dumbledore and Weasley bashing?**

 **I get that the works are done by fans for the fans and such, but you think she would – I don't know – alleviate our concerns as to our 'incorrect' interpretations of her characters?**

 **Can someone explain this to me or am I overthinking it?**

 **However, in my search for anything regarding this topic, something came out that unfortunately answered a query a reviewer put up.**

* * *

 **2\. Someone said that despite having an interesting story, my update rate is less than stellar.**

 **I have to agree with that assessment – my update rate is dubious at best.**

 **So I decided to continue a discussion I started with my last update and combine all three issues into one. The following data is taken from my Scholastic Inc. publications of the Harry Potter series, as well as the years of publication and movie releases, as well as a ratio of pages to minutes of the movies. I also gave you bullet points of some critical points in the books; I am doing this to show the uneven pacing of JKR books if my reasoning isn't clear.**

* * *

 **The Philosopher's Stone (1997) – 310 pages / Movie (2001): 152 minutes**

 **Ratio Pages to Minutes – 2.04**

1\. Troll finally appears on page 172

2\. A little over 100 pages to get from the end of October to the end of the school year.

* * *

 **The Chamber of Secrets (1998) – 341 pages / Movie (2002): 161 minutes**

 **Ratio Pages to Minutes – 2.12**

1\. The first attack is on page 138

2\. The second attack is on page 180

3\. The third attack is on page 202. I would like to point out that this all happens weeks before Valentines Day. Hence, all three attacks happen (most likely) before Christmas break. Meaning that all the reveals in this story will happen in about 130 pages.

4\. Fourth attack (Hermione) is on page 257.

The shade of Tom is literally alive from pages 307 to 322. This means that 15 pages of 341 (4.4%) of the book shows us the villain and provides us the most character/history reveal. Seems odd, doesn't it?

* * *

 **The Prisoner of Azkaban (1999) – 435 pages / Movie (2004): 141 minutes**

 **Ratio Pages to Minutes – 3.09**

1\. First Dementor attack is on page 84

2\. The boggart starts on page 136. Ironically, unlike in the movies, Harry doesn't get a turn (it's fun what you realize the movies add rather than remove in the making process)

3\. Quidditch match Dementor attack is on page 178

4\. January is mentioned explicitly on page 233. At least now, there are 200 pages left to cover the last few months of school (already better than previous two books).

5\. Fake Dementor attack on page 263.

6\. Gryffindor wins the Cup in May on page 312. Meaning that 110 pages are left to cover one month and all the big reveals. Again, already a better trend when compared to first two books.

Pettigrew reveal is on page 348. Snape arrives on 357. 10 pages for betrayal reveal. I would be more pissed unless one points out that Tom was only alive for 15 pages in the last book. Then you keep reading and realize the explanation of everything ends on page 377. So 29 pages in total to explaining the betrayal or 6.7% of the book. SO… better.

7\. 'Prongs' is on page 411.

* * *

 **The Goblet of Fire (2000) – 734 pages / Movie (2005): 157 minutes**

 **Ratio Pages to Minutes – 4.67**

1\. Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup is on page 128

2\. Harry's name comes out of the Goblet on page 271 (37% into the story)

3\. Harry finishes First Task on page 356

4\. Harry finishes Second Task on page 504

5\. Harry grabs the cup in the Third Task on page 635 (86.5% into the story)

6\. Harry escapes from the fight on page 670 (so 35 pages dedicated to fighting Voldemort, or 4.8% of the book. Seems like we are going backward. AND NO, the fact that this book focused slightly more on world building doesn't help.)

* * *

 **The Order of the Phoenix (2003) – 870 pages / Movie (2007): 138 minutes**

 **Ratio Pages to Minutes – 6.30**

1\. Dudley attacked by Dementors is on page 18

2\. Harry's hearing ends on page 151 (17.4% into the story, but there was legitimate reason for this, so I let this slide)

We are FINALLY introduced to Luna Lovegood through Ginny on page 185. That's right – she is only presented to us in the fifth book and movie. If JKR had created her earlier, this would have been a much different franchise.

3\. Harry's first detention (aka. 'I must not tell lies') is on page 267

4\. First unofficial meeting of the DA concludes on page 349

5\. First Occlumency lesson ends on page 538.

You know, as a kid, we tend to ignore things like these. I mean, it was a fantasy novel, so stuff can be made up at times, but as an adult and someone who truly starts to analyze books, you begin to think why didn't JKR think of this sooner. On a more story driven level, why didn't Albus request this to be taught to Harry sooner? Think this is where the whole Good or Bad Dumbledore debate really started picking up ground.

6\. Harry's career interview ends on page 666

7\. Harry's group enters the Ministry (not the Department of Mysteries) on page 768

8\. Sirius dies on page 806

9\. Fighting and reveal ends on page 819 (so 51 pages or 5.9% of the story… at least it went up)

* * *

 **The Half-Blood Prince (2005) – 652 pages / Movie (2009): 153 minutes**

 **Ratio Pages to Minutes – 4.26**

1\. Unbreakable Vow on page 37

2\. Snape declared DADA teacher on page 166 (25.5% into the story – we are finally in Hogwarts)

3\. House of Gaunt memory ends on 216

4\. Draco's failed assassination of Dumbledore due to Katie Bell on page 250

5\. Hagrid's letter about Aragog's burial is on page 470

6\. Snape kills Dumbledore on page 596 (after 23 pages of not finding Slytherin's Locket in the cave)

Personally, this book was a mitigated mess, primarily serving as the rising action of the franchise as it were. Personally, I don't think JKR ever had a TRUE understanding of the story structure map. You know, the one that goes from Exposition to Rising Action to Climax to Falling Action and finally, Resolution. Most people assume that the climax is the same as the grand reveal (aka. "Luke, I am your father," which is a misquote by the way). You want a proper recent example? "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" will do. Ren killing Han? Giant f***ing twist. Supreme Leader Snoke ordering General Hux to use the Starkiller for the first time AND questioning Ren's loyalty AS WELL AS revealing him be the son of Han and Leia? Yeah, that's not Rising Action, by definition that's the freaking climax, since the following battle at what was once Hosnian Prime and afterward is considered the Falling Action, since it is 'the resolution of the conflict and/or crisis.'

But don't mind my opinion regarding this – take the words of literary scholars who stared to write some harsh criticisms from the fifth book and onwards when – and I am quoting here – "Rowling's mind [becomes] is so governed by clichés and dead metaphors that she has no other style of writing." Hell, a New York Times writer called Rowling's universe a "secondary world, made up of intelligently patchworked derivative motifs from all sorts of children's literature ... written for people whose imaginative lives are confined to TV cartoons, and the exaggerated (more exciting, not threatening) mirror-worlds of soaps, reality TV and celebrity gossip".

In my mind, the climax is the top of the hill, meaning it has to be in the center of the story. For some reason, JKR always makes the climax (the grand battle) near the very end of the books, making the once normal looking hill look like some deformed plateau or a weird math graph. Falling Action and Resolution need as much invested into it as the Exposition and Rising Action. This isn't some roller coaster that needs a lot of Rising Action to get going. When you plot your story, you have to know how it ends and how one is going to get there. I understand that she was writing this for kids but news flash, the series is written over a decade. Hell, even if parents started reading this story to kids as young as 4, they are at most in high school by the time the last book came out, meaning old enough to understand how to write a story or at least analyze it semi-critically. There is no excuse for appeasing the future children or masses here. If she wanted to, she could have easily just either A) made the books longer to make it flow better or B) split a year into two books to make it flow better (i.e. Two climaxes in one year with a separate resolution to them). But we are getting off topic.

* * *

 **The Deathly Hallows (2007) – 759 pages / Movie (2010 & 2011): 146 minutes (Part 1) & 130 minutes (Part 2)**

 **Ratio Pages to Minutes (all of them) – 2.75 (guess this one was special)**

1\. Hedwig's death is revealed on page 67 after the clusterfuck known as the Seven Potters. Oh, and Mad-Eye is revealed dead on page 78.

Okay seriously, I know we needed to build up the seriousness of the story and all, but why the hell did we have to kill of Hedwig and Mad-Eye? Okay, Mad-Eye was exciting but not necessarily critical to the story, BUT WHAT DID JKR HAVE AGAINST THE BIRD? I mean what the hell?

2\. Rufus Scrimgeour's death is revealed on page 159 after Bill and Fleur's wedding.

3\. Albus's and Gellert's close relationship (and possible love) is revealed on page 357

4\. Locket destroyed on page 386.

5\. Dobby dies on page 477 (62.3% of story) after the fight at Malfoy Manor (also, first appropriate use of life debt by Harry against Peter, causing his artificial hand to choke him to death).

I like to point out the absurdity of this, more so towards the movies rather than the author. We are more than half-way done with the book, in which the trio has done nothing more the running around and play keep-up to locate information DUMBELDORE SHOULD HAVE TOLD THEM ALREADY! Maybe this is my cynic talking since reading fan works have revealed the glaring plot holes in the story, but still…

Secondly, the second movie starts with Dobby's burial. Meaning that the first movie ration is actually 3.27 and the second is 2.17. I get that the latter half of the book was all about the fight at Hogwarts which the later movie went crazy with but still…

6\. Gringott's break-in ends on page 543.

7\. Crew meets with Neville on page 570

8\. Snape's story (page 659 to 690) - which frankly was more humanizing in the movie – was finally revealed, alleviating him from 'douche' to 'manipulated anti-hero' or something along those lines. Honestly, this revelation caused a rather large split in the fanfiction community. He is either still considered a dick in their works (i.e. his reasoning not enough to justify his behavior, so they basically leave the reveal out of their work and either kill him or punish him) or they find a way to redeem him or justify his vileness. My favorite reason for the latter has been in one work in which he was basically mind-raped into forgetting that he was actually a Marauder and forced into becoming a servant for Voldemort and a spy for Abus – who FYI, was the one who mind-raped him. Yeah… Snape was mentally replaced by Peter as the groups' friend. The writer has yet to address how the map was modified to cover this up but still… damn good reason for character change, no?

9\. Harry takes killing curse on page 704, revives on page 724, 'dramatically' revives (and Nagini killed by Neville) on page 733, information ('Dumbledore's plan') revealed for 11 pages before Riddle is killed on page 744.

I like to point out that in the movie, the reveal of the plan is not made and – and this is my personal opinion – Nagini is killed by Neville later than in the book, but its death seemed to directly lead to Voldemort weakening and losing to Harry. Call me superstitious, but it looks like the moviemakers wanted it to look like NEVILLE was the one who was supposed to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I mean, his actions did lead to the ending of the war.

10\. The epilogue is six pages. There, done.

* * *

So there you have it: 10 years of work, 4101 pages of the Harry Potter Universe, most of which was revealed later on through online conspiracies, author reveals on interviews and twitter, and probably Pottermore.

At least Tolkien spared some time to give us the "The Silmarillion" and "The History of Middle-Earth" to fill in the gaps. JKR gave us (or at least co-wrote) "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child."

Yeah… it's _the same thing_.

There's also the issue of word-count. My research gave me the following numbers (they may be slightly off based on publishing source):

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stones – 76,944

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets – 85,141

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – 107,253

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire – 190,637

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix – 257,045

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince – 168,923

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – 198,227

 **TOTAL: 1,084,170**

Averaging it out means that over a ten year period (not counting the few years before publishing her 1st book for 'research'), gives us 108,417 a year.

Fanfiction writer 'Third Fang,' one of the best writers out there, wrote "Yet again, with a little extra help," a Naruto time travel piece on crack with its own unique OCs, rules, and god-damn UNIVERSE HISTORY!

He wrote 1,262,281 in three years. It averages 420,760 words per year.

His sequel, "Take Two Round Two," is five years strong and has 656,030. It averages 131,206 words per year so far.

Granted, he is one of the more prolific writers on the site, but how about a real-life example?

One of my favorite writers is Jim Butcher, a contemporary fantasy book writer who wrote "The Dresden Files" series, as well as the "Codex Alera" and "Cinder Spires" series at the same time. For sanity sake, let's focus on the Dresden books (AND NOT THE TV SHOW!).

Storm Front - 86,961 (April 1, 2000)

Fool Moon - 102,149 (January 1, 2001)

Grave Peril - 116,932 (September 1, 2001)

Summer Knight - 111,764 (September 3, 2002)

Blood Rites - 121,308 (August 5, 2003)

Death Masks - 107,382 (August 2, 2004)

Dead Beat - 144,555 (May 2, 2006)

Proven Guilty - 154,598 (February 6, 2007)

White Night - 130,223 (February 5, 2008)

Small Favor - 139,798 (May 3, 2009)

Turn Coat - 141,745 (March 3, 2010)

Changes - 149,280 (March 11, 2011)

Ghost story - 162,899 (August 7, 2012)

Cold Days - 175,685 (September 3, 2013)

Skin Game - 151,922 (March 5, 2015)

 **TOTAL - 1,997,201**

Side Jobs (the short story collection) is another 135,782 words but let's ignore it.

So… counting two extra years after the last book (since the series is still ongoing) and overlooking the fact that Butcher managed to start two series (and finish one of them) as well as going to conferences, events, and - let's not forget – personal life, he still averaged 117,482 words per year for this series alone.

JKR has no excuse for NOT putting more effort into her series.

* * *

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

 _November 1_ _st_ _, 2011 – Morning_

 **Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

Sirius and Remus were marching through the lower levels of the Ministry making their way towards the Head Office of the DMLE.

One of them was mad.

The other was madder.

"Can you believe that moron in check-up had the nerve to look at you like that Remus?"

"Look at me? He practically reached for a bottle of Purell after he touched my wand. He just looked at you like you were some sort of toxic spill off that shouldn't be approached?"

Remus noted Sirius confusion, "Oh right, Lily didn't really cover everything in the Muggle world when we were growing up, and you've been out of the loop. Purell is a Muggle hand sanitizer to prevent sickness by killing germs, and toxic spills can be summed up as hazardous potion by-products."

"Ah," nodded Sirius, "but in all fairness do you expect from pure-bloods?"

Sirius actually paused at that, "I can't believe I actually said that."

Remus pushed his friend forward, "Yes, yes – we will debate your moral quandary later. But in all fairness, I agree with you. We passed by who knows how many agents and by smell alone, I can tell that there are too few Muggle-born and Half-bloods here in the Ministry. That's not even considering their position."

"You can tell them apart by smell? Can werewolves smell magic?"

Remus actually raised his brows at that, "No, no, it's just that based on how they live."

Both men approached the secretary outside the office. She noted their name tags. Well, in reality, she only glanced at Sirius's before blanching, "Oh, forgive me, sir. I'll tell her you are here."

Sirius nodded and waited as the girl went into the office, "What do mean 'how they live'?"

Remus shrugged, "Pure-bloods usually stick to the Wizard World which means that they don't interact with certain things associated with the Muggle World. Half-bloods are a toss-up but all one has to do is look at them and tell. Basically, the more… archaic I guess they smell… the more likely they are Pure-blood."

Sirius thought about that, "Have you ever been wrong before?"

"Once or twice."

Sirius was about to inquire further before the office door opened again, "She will see you now."

Both thanked the secretary before entering the office of one very annoyed looking Amelia Bones. Although with the amount of paperwork she was going through this early in the morning, anyone would be annoyed.

She gave Sirius a glare, "Sirius, I don't have time to entertain you right now. The fiscal budget is due soon which I don't have time for nor the patience to figure out what cuts will have to be made. I have more complains from rookies about the 'low-ranking' people they are paired with. And now I have to deal with…"

Sirius raised his hand, "Before this goes any further Miss Bones, I should first state that I am here as Lord Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black with Remus C. Lupin, Advisor and Deputy of said house."

Amelia actually froze at that, "You took up your lordship I see."

Remus pulled out two chairs for them.

Sirius sat down and smiled, "Well Prongslet did return the title to me after he used, who was I not to take it up again?"

Amelia smirked and looked at Remus, "And him?"

Sirius smiled, "Well with my extended stay in Azkaban, and I didn't feel like I would be taken seriously if my decisions as a Lord were questioned due to possible influence and trauma caused by my extended stay in Azkaban – despite Healer paperwork stating otherwise. Also, turns out I am still virile so points there."

Remus rubbed his brow in annoyance, "He is pulling a prank."

Sirius frowned, "It's not a prank – it's me solving multiple problems in an unexpected manner."

Remus sighed.

Sirius turned to Amelia, "I offered him a room in Grimmauld, he refused charity. I offered him a job as basically my secretary, he accepted."

Amelia thought about it, "I don't see how that's an issue."

Remus slightly growled, "What he didn't mention however is that by giving me the positions of both Advisor and Deputy, he made it so that I could basically sit in for him in Wizengamot Sessions with the full authority of House of Black behind it."

Amelia spit out the coffee she was drinking, "Wait, WHAT! I thought the anti-werewolf legislation prevented them from having such a position."

Sirius smiled and raised a finger, "Not necessarily. There is a loophole since the legislature prevents them from having **one** position – no one imagine that a werewolf would have two."

"The secretary thing is spot on as well," frowned Remus, "if anyone wants to approach Sirius or set up a meeting, they have to go through me first. And seeing as how most look down on werewolves, I am not going to enjoy that."

Amelia bug-eyed look slowly deflated as she considered this, "Wait a second… are you telling me that you basically created a character test in the form of your werewolf bodyguard?"

Sirius chuckled, "They always forget that werewolves are stronger than us even in their human form. And yes to the character witness thing – it's only if they are open to dealing with werewolves or not, but that usually means that they are open to ideas. Plus, I plan to do my work out of the limelight as it were. For example," said Remus as he reached into his pocket and plopped a satchel on Amelia's desk, "consider that my donation to the DMLE for the work they have done."

Amelia opened and satchel only to see a never-ending hoard of gold. She stared shocked at a basically nonchalant Remus, "I should mention that it's my combined donations for all the years I've missed while in Azkaban."

"Sirius, there must be…"

"Millions, yes. Turns out Granpappy Arcturus thought the same way as James did and basically allowed the goblins to do whatever they wanted with the gold… even if the current Lord was unavailable."

Amelia paused at that. "How much…"

"Enough to last several lifetimes and enough to say unequivocally that I can literally bitch-slap Malfoy with a bag of gold, leave it behind, and not care if he took it."

"That doesn't really qualify as much since you basically bankrupted him and he disappeared after that fiasco in Hogwarts."

"Speaking of which," interrupted Remus, "we came in about that in fact."

Amelia put away the satchel and crossed her arms as she leaned back into her chair, "You suspect something Hogwarts?"

"I should explain. A week ago I got a letter from Fred and George Weasley…"

"Arthur's boys?"

Sirius nodded, "The very same. They were inquiring about the difficulties and fallout of them being accepted back into the Black Family."

"Really?" leaned in Amelia. "I also forget that Arthur has rather strong Black blood. Didn't know he was considering it."

"He isn't – but that's not the important part here. They may or may not have mentioned that something would happen in the school on Halloween."

"Which was yesterday."

"Right. And since the Hogwarts bylaws prevent anyone from coming in unless invited – including parents – I figured you would have made way for Susan to reach you somehow in case of emergency."

"I did, I left her a medallion that she can press if she feels an emergency has come up. In fact, I am waiting it's pair right now, and nothing is…"

As if fate was listening, the amulet started glowing in sporadic patterns, shocking everyone in the office. Remus noticed a pattern to the blinking, "Morse code… rather brilliant Amelia. Not something is known by wizards and easy enough to use in such a charm."

Amelia held out a hand to stop him from talking, "Attack… School…Troll…Owls…Not…Leaving?"

Sirius whistled, "Looks like Dumbledore let a troll slip in and now he is preventing the kids form saying anything via owls. I willing to bet my left nut that this what the twins were talking about."

"That's not actually what worries me," spoke Amelia as she hurriedly started getting dressed, "Susan writes in code to me so that her letters can bypass most wards that search for key phrases and the like. The fact that she resorted to this means that Dumbledore must be blocking all letters."

Sirius got mad, "Why do I have a strong suspicion that one way or another this will be thrown under the rug somehow in **any way possible?** "

Remus frowned, "Potions and spell?"

Sirius got up as well, "I've seen it done before. A little-diluted amnesia potion here, some ignorance spell there, teaching contracts to prevent the staff from ever raising the issue again…"

Amelia paused, "Sirius, this is Albus Dumbledore were are talking about here."

"And he wouldn't be the first nor last Headmaster of Hogwarts who had to cover something like this up. I spend a lot of my childhood talking to my Grand Uncle Phineas's portrait. You want to know why he was so unpopular? Because he never hid his 'dirty laundry' – if someone screwed up, student or teacher, he made sure it was known. Didn't make him popular with pure-bloods used to having their trash swept under the rug, but he held everyone to higher standards. Now that I think about it, I think it was after he left that Slytherin standards started failing."

"Now is not the time Sirius," interrupted Remus, "we have to get to Hogwarts."

"Indeed," interjected Amelia as they all left the office and she turned to her assistant, "Sarah, cancel all my appointments today and get a small squad on standby. I will reach you for further orders."

"Do you want the attack squad or a search & destroy?"

"Search & destroy please."

"Will do, Mam."

As the trio left the elevator and exited the ministry, they ran into someone unexpected.

"Pardon me, Misses Bones?"

Everyone stared to see a tall red-headed lad of early 20's walk up to them.

"Yes?"

"I was ordered to meet you here by boss from Gringotts. He said and I quote, 'I would be needed on your trip.'"

Sirius chuckled, "and you are?"

The boy bowed – a proper pure-blood introduction to one of higher stature – and replied, "I am William Arthur Weasley, Lord Black. I work as a Curse Breaker with a sub-specialty in Ward Analyses."

Remus openly gawked, "You're joking. What goblin is your boss?"

Bill rubbed the back of his head, "Well actually, it was at a request of another through my boss. See, I was getting ready to be deployed to Egypt when I was requested to meet Miss Bones here at just for this one assignment."

Amelia frowned – she didn't like coincidences. "So what goblin did request this?"

"Griphook, Miss Bones."

Sirius started laughing, "Griphook – as in the current manager of the Potter Accounts? Oh, this is rich."

Amelia slapped her boyfriend in the back of the head for that. "Guess we will need you then, Mr. Weasley."

"Please, call me Bill. And where are we going?"

"To the last place, anyone expects one of your profession to go."

* * *

 _November 1st, 2011 – Noon_

 **Hogwarts Great Hall**

"So…" started Hermione, "are we really not going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

Neville looked up from his soup, "The elephant in the what?"

"Muggle phrase Neville," said Harry as he ate his salad, "basically means asking the question that's being avoided."

"Oh, which one?" snarked Neville, "The one with the missing DADA Professor, the exorcised History Professor, or the fact that all owls are suddenly checked up for sicknesses?"

"Yes," said Hermione.

Harry – while maintaining his uninterested charade – was laughing inside. Getting rid of Quirrell on Mímir was fun and all – despite the fact that neither knew what was actually possessing him – but getting rid of Binns? BONUS!

The ghost of history past was grading on Harry's last nerve. So when he saw the teacher STILL monologuing to a class that wasn't there as he made his way back to the tower, Harry lost it. A quick REAL Enochian exorcism – unlike the one the boys heard in Blue Earth (1) – which worked beautifully. Binns didn't even feel himself move on. Which brought an interesting philosophical discussion in Harry's mind if witches and wizards go to regular Heaven or whatever Pagan Heaven they believed in. He would have pondered this more, but he had to make a run when he sensed another ghost approach. Whether or not this was coincidence or because they felt the ritual was too up for debate.

In any case, Dumbledore suddenly ordering all owls to stay within the castle was a bit too much. Did he really think that one way or another **someone** hasn't gotten the message out? This is a society of wizards – despite their backward nature, they must have considered some sort of secret way to talk, right?

As if hearing his musings, the grand doors slammed open as a furious woman walked in followed by three men. Two of which he recognized immediately…

"Aunt Amelia!" shouted Susan as she ran up to her.

 _Well that's one,_ thought Harry.

"BILL!?" shouted all the Weasleys – minus Ron who was too preoccupied with his food.

 _So that's how the Heir Apparent looks like. Way to go Griphook._

Before leaving his initial meeting with Griphook, he brought something from the goblins that not many took advantage of. While no word existed outside of Gobbledegook – a somewhat demeaning term that was given to the Goblin tongue long ago – it was merely called Goblin Owling Messanger. While its primary use was checking letters and parchments for charms, jinxes, potions, compulsions and what not, Harry primarily used it to teleport his parchments directly to Griphook without anyone in Hogwarts being the wiser, mainly since he openly used a rented owl frequently to message Bobby and the boys. How the birds made the trip across the Atlantic he didn't know.

In any case, expecting the worst possible fallout from the troll attack and two teachers missing, Harry send out a quick memo informing Griphook of what has transpired. Getting Bill Weasley must have been his decision.

Sirius and Remus though… were they here for the twins?

After hugging her niece, her smile and demeanor quickly switched to professionalism as Amelia approached the staff table, "So Headmaster, what's this I hear about a troll in the castle?"

Harry actually saw Dumbledore twinkle disappear. _Perfect…_

"Amelia…"

"That's Director Bones, Dumbledore. This is not a situation where you can use my first name. Now answer my question before I start asking more question, such as where your DADA teacher is?"

Dumbledore stood up, "Perhaps we should take this in my office."

Amelia nodded, "Let's. And make sure **all** the teachers are there with you."

Dumbledore nodded and looked at Sirius, "Are you with her, Sirius and Remus?"

Sirius almost growled at Dumbledore, "That's Lord Black and Consigliere (2) Lupin, **Chief Warlock** Dumbledore. And we are here on family business."

This actually shocked everyone more than expected. "I see. Would you like a room to talk with Nymphadora Black?"

Harry actually heard the gold-plated cup shatter from the Hufflepuff table.

"She doesn't like to be called that, and you know it, Headmaster. No, I am here to talk with the **other** Blacks of Hogwarts."

Severus raised a brow, "Other Blacks? Did you or your sister sire a child we were not aware of?"

Sirius looked at Severus and actually took on a calm appearance, "Ah, Master Severus…"

Tableware and cups fell while some actually did spit takes.

Sirius actually looked around in shock, "well I can't exactly call him Professor! Plus, he is the youngest recipient of a Potion Mastery (3), so I can call him Master without any actual sexual overtones."

Remus did his best not to laugh.

Other failed.

"Now… as I was saying… Master Severus, if I can have a moment of your time at your earliest convenience. There are matters I wish to discuss with you in private."

Severus's eyes narrowed, "Are you going to be there as Lord Black or as Sirius Black?"

"The latter."

Every table looked at their potion teacher, wondering the distinction.

"Then I shall meet you later tonight, at six if our meeting with Director Bones isn't held up."

Severus nodded, and Sirius returned the gesture.

"Now where was I?" pondered Sirius

Remus leaned in, "Other Blacks."

"Oh right, that. The other Blacks I wanted to talk to were the Weasleys."

"WHAT?" shouted Ron in shock. He was not the only one.

Some actually fainted.

Harry looked around. _Holy s**t this is hilarious!_

"Well, Arthur Weasley is the son of Cedrella Black so by extension all of his children **are** Blacks."

Harry noted A LOT of pure-blood heirs suddenly panic. _Oh Hallelujah, Christmas came early!_

Sirius clapped his hands, "So, as I was saying, I would like a room in private to talk with the Weasley clan currently in school. Bill, you being here is a lucky coincidence, so you can join as well – I don't think Director Bones needs just yet."

"Indeed I do not. But I will require his assistance later. Now Headmaster… your office."

Dumbledore looked around, "All students, please return to your House Dorms until further notice – all classes for later today are canceled."

Rather than cheering, all students quickly gathered their things and ran off. Even the Muggle-born understood that there was a powerplay happening right now and all the half-bloods and pure-bloods would be preparing letters to send to their parents as soon as the owls were free.

Only Harry calmly gathered his things and smiled as he walked out the room.

If he weren't smiling, he would have paid more attention to the odd reaction of two people in the room.

Remus with his nose, and Bill with something on his neck.

* * *

"Come in, come in," waved Sirius as five redheads entered an unused classroom on the fifth floor. "Remus, if you could?"

Remus nodded and silently began casting charms around the classroom while the twins started doing the same thing to themselves. They noticed everyone but Remus – currently focused on his task – look at them in surprise.

"What? Do you know how often we get tagged…."

"…by tracking and listening charms by the staff?"

Sirius smirked, "Is Mim still using the old styled spells or has she modified them?"

Fred and George looked in surprise, "You know about them?"

"Yeah. My friends and I got marked by them a lot when we were in Hogwarts. Moony there was the one who always removed them though since Prongs was better at Transfiguration then charms."

Fred and George froze. "Moony? Prongs?"

One of the twins quickly pulled a parchment out of his pocket and presented it to Sirius.

"Well, would you look at that," smiled Sirius. "Hey, Remus! Check this out."

"What," approached Remus after finishing placing privacy and anti-listening charms. "Well I'll be – looks like they found it?"

"Found what?" asked Bill curiously.

"Yeah, it looks like a parchment?" pushed on Percy.

"Should I do the honors, Moony?"

"The honor is all yours, Padfoot."

Sirius took out his new wand – dogwood, rigid 10 ½ inches, with a fang from an actual Grim – as his old one was snapped and waved it over the parchment, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Even before the map finished changing, the twins were already on their knees bowing, "We are not worthy! We are not worthy!"

Bill watched as a map of Hogwarts appeared on the parchment and little footsteps that moved shuffled along the surface. As a curse-breaker, he quickly realized what it was, "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you mean a parchment that me, Sirius, James Potter, and the _traitor_ made while we terrorized this school with pranks as the Mauraders to show the location of everyone in school and its secret passages, then yes," answered Remus smiling. "And before you ask, no I don't remember what spells we used in making it. Hell, I but with the knowledge, I have now I can probably make a better one with less effort on my own. A lot of the stuff we put into that were redundant or interfered with each other."

"Such as?" asked Percy as he pulled Fred and George up, suddenly realizing how his brothers manage to get away with everything and stay one step ahead of everyone.

Sirius inspected the map, "I tried putting in something to show if someone was a virgin or not, but the wards of Hogwarts would allow me."

"WHAT?" shouted everyone sans Remus, who was only covering his ears – damn his enhanced hearing.

"Yeah, though it be useful if some love-struck girl played the 'virgin card' to try to sleep with one of us – didn't matter though. I got to say though, the map seems to be much more reactive and detailed than before."

"Really?" Remus looked over, "Huh, seems it is. Someone must have strengthened the wards within Hogwarts while we were gone." (4)

This caught Bill's attention, "Hogwarts has wards for this?"

"Oh certainly. Supposedly it used to have wards for damn near everything, but they allegedly died off. When Phineas was Headmaster, he used to hire ward master every once in a while to check up on the school to make sure everything was in pristine shape. Knowing Dumbledore though… I have a feeling he insulated this school and has been doing the checkup himself. And with his schedule, there a good chance **a lot** of the wards are failing."

"Would explain why he used the pictures around the school as spies," replied Remus. "Harder to manipulate and less likely to fail."

Sirius looked at Bill, "When Amelia comes for you, she'll most likely ask you for your opinion regarding the wards so be prepared."

Remus gave the map back to the twins, "So… you are the new generation of Mauraders? Only two?"

Fred and George glanced at each other, "There is a third, but he hasn't really joint us **yet –** he sort of on probation until he pulls off a prank."

Sirius nodded, "And your names?"

"We don't have any." Answered one of the twins.

Sirus rubbed his brow, "I told you, Remus, that we made finding the packages too hard."

The twins perked up, "Packages?"

Sirius put out his hand, "That's all I will tell you. I will say that it involves the map and a scavenger hunt. I told you more than enough as it is. Consider it your test to become true Mauraders. **Then** you will understand our names."

A lightbulb suddenly went off in Percy's head, "An Animagus… Padfoot… forgive me for asking this Mister Lupin, but perchance are you an Animagus as well?"

Lupin smiled, "Nope – werewolf." (5)

Ron – who hasn't said anything during this whole conversation – backed away as far as possible from Remus. None of the other red-heads reacted the same way. They were surprised, however.

"And your name is Moony…"Percy rubbed his chin.

Seeing where this was going, Sirius gave him an extra push, "The haunting regarding the Shrieking Shack only started when Remus attended Hogwarts."

Percy snapped his fingers, "You were all Animagus! Prongs were James Potter, meaning he was something hoofed, Wormtail was something a tail, Padfoot was you as some kind of dog, and Moony was Remus as a werewolf. You all became Animagus to help him out during the full moon and used the Shrieking Shack for that."

Sirius actually smiled, "Beautiful deduction! Yes, James was a stag, I am a Grim, Remus is a werewolf, and Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew and a rat – literally and metaphorically. Don't know what happened to him though."

"Speaking of which," Percy turned to Ron, "did you find Scabbers yet?"

"No, the old thing ran off somewhere. It's been over a week – he will turn up though. He always does." (6)

"We seem to have gotten off topic here," interjected Bill as he pulled out his wand and summoned some seats for everyone. "Perhaps its best if Lord Black tells us why he wanted to meet us."

Sirius waited for everyone to sit down before proceeding, "As you know, I've been re-organizing the family tree as it were. I've already returned my cousin Andromeda back into the family as evident by her daughter, who-shall-not-be-named 'Tonks' Black. Narcissa is already under my protection and is settling I nicely. I already banished Bellatrix from the family. I started sending out feelers for any surviving squibs or descendants. The only one left is Arthur Weasley. I **was** planning to meet with him in person about this, but the twins beat me to the punch. I figured I would talk to his kids first before I went on that road."

Percy, Bill, Fred, and George all nodded along and actually understood where Lord Black was coming from. People like Bellatrix have given the family a rather lousy reputation, even disregarding their 'Dark' associations. Asking their opinion on the matter was sensible.

Ron didn't consider this.

"Why in the bloody hell would we want to be acknowledged as Blacks? You are all 'Dark'!"

Sirius frowned, "First of all, if Arthur accepts, you would all technically be renamed Weasley-Black. Secondly, 'Dark' and 'Light' sides have gotten a rather bad connotation due to the war – no thanks to Dumbledore. Before the 'Dark' Families were associated with Voldy and his ideas, they were initially associated with families who favored keeping the Wizarding World the way it was. As in supporters of keeping wizarding culture the wait it – accepting and studying all magic, following old traditions, power to the old families, and the like. The 'Light' side used to be about progress, power to the masses, and acceptance for all, until **someone** started twisting into limiting what magic could be studied and double-talk. You ever notice that despite all his promises about equality and the like, not much has really changed since Dumbledore came into power? Seriously, look it up. I mean, he had a few good decades before Voldy came along and one more after he passed and nothing had changed except how the sides are perceived (7)! Before the war, magic was just that – magic! There was no such thing as Light or Dark magic. The only thing that matter was the intention. Heck, before the Cruciatus Curse was twisted into the form we know today, it used to be used by Healers to reactivate nerves in those who regrew limbs. Same for the Blood Boiling Curse – it was used to treat hypothermia!"

"Muggles have a saying about knowledge: there is no such thing as advancement without fallout," agreed Remus. "Almost every discovery made by them has been twisted in some form or another. The same can be said for magic on some level."

Ron just fumed while the rest of the Weasley's agreed with what Sirus said.

Sirius clapped, "So – Weasleys joining the Blacks: yay or nay?"

Bill spoke first, "If I know Charley, it won't really matter to him: as long as he has his dragons, he is happy. Personally, I don't mind. I already have a job in Gringotts, and they don't care about family names – only what one can bring to them."

Percy spoke next, "I honestly don't know. I wish to work in the Ministry one day. While the Black name **would** open some doors, it carries too much baggage – at least for now anyway. I am afraid I must abstain."

"A completely fair decision, Percy, nothing wrong with that," nodded Sirius.

Fred and Geroge looked at each other before one spoke, "We don't really care, so we are in, but Mom will put up a fight."

"It's not for Molly to decide – this is Arthur's decision, not hers."

Bill laughed, "Shows what you know. She wears the pants in the relationship."

Sirius chuckled, "All women do. You will discover that one day as well, Bill."

Bill smiled while Sirius turned to Ron, "I already know what you are going to say…"

Ron stood up so fast his chair tipped back, "THERE IS NO WAY WEASLEY ARE GOING TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH BLACKS – NOT NOW, NOT EVER!"

Ron slammed the door on his way back. Every other Weasley looked down in shame.

Sirius just nonchalantly shrugged, "Remus, if you could?"

Remus quickly sealed the door.

Sirius turned serious and leaned forward, "Not that the bigot is gone, I can discuss my real intention with you lot."

All the boys stood straighter at the tone Sirius… No… the tone Lord Black used. Gone was the playful trickster. Before them was a Lord.

"Before I came here, I looked into BOTH sides of your family – Weasley and Prewett. Did you know I was rather close with Fabian and Gideon? Wonderful men – Molly named you two," pointing at Fred and George, "in their honor. They were brilliant and loyal, hardworking and dedicated to a cause. The day they died so did the House of Prewett – and I mean that quite literally."

This caught everyone off-guard.

"As you may know, every House has their own standard for picking a Lord or Lady to lead the family. Some pass down by choice of the current one. Some let magic decide. And some leave criteria behind that when met, allow one to take up the position."

Sirius reached out into his coat and took out a parchment, "I had my Vault Manager look into possibly locating the conditions set by the Ancient and Noble House of Prewett for Lordship and Ladyship. And lo and behold, they found them."

Sirius passed it to the twins, "And do you know something interesting? It has a special clause in there."

Fred and George both unfurled and read through the parchment. Both froze in shock before Percy and Bill took it from them. They too became shocked when they read the section.

"Magic always finds a way."

One of the twins spoke, "You… you can't be serious."

Sirius raised his arms shrugging, "There is no one leading the House of Prewett. Age doesn't matter in such situation – as long as the criteria are met, anyone can claim the role."

Fred and George looked at Percy and Bill for answers.

"Hey, it's up to you guys. If mom knew, she would have treated you differently," said Bill.

"Honestly, I see no backlash from this. Prewett have never been a name associated with anything – they have no connotation to them. They were just kind of… there. You can basically do whatever you want with the name. It's a blank canvas."

Fred and George looked at each other and started thinking.

Sirius raised a finger, "Can I mention that if you do this, your mother can't object and that you will still be a Weasley?"

The twins looked up with new consideration. They seemed to communicate silently, with hand motions and emotional responses indicating that they were in fact conversing.

Remus chuckled, "If the mental communication isn't a giveaway, I don't know what is."

Bill and Percy looked at Remus, "Wait, they are actually talking?"

"Oh yes, sometimes twins are born who can mentally talk to each other. Quite handy – makes it difficult to break into their minds."

Fred and George finally nodded and turned to Sirius, "So…where do we sign on the dotted line?"

Sirius pointed on the parchment, "Just sign here with this Blood Quill, and the process will begin."

Fred and Geroge quickly signed the parchment. It faintly glowed when they finished.

Sirius quickly furled it up and put it away, "I'll give it to my Vault Manager who will pass it on to the Prewett one. For now, it's not finalized until you meet him in the future," said Sirius as he slowly smiled, "but it doesn't mean I can't congratulate the future Lords Prewett."

* * *

 _November 1st, 2011 – Night_

 **Hogwarts Dungeons – Potion Room**

Severus slowly walked through the dungeons. After spending god knows how many hours in the meeting, Albus was finally able to fandangle into convincing Director Bones that auror intervention wasn't necessary and that the troll simply managed to find a weak point in the wards. As Bill Weasley was present, Bones hired him on the spot under her authority as Head of the DMLE to check the wards and to make sure they worked.

She even allowed him to bring in more ward expecters from Gringotts as she promised to pay for it all!

He didn't know where Bones would find – Fudge practically drained that department dry to fuel his lifestyle.

It was funny really; Albus knew about Fudge's habits, but he did nothing about it since he listened to him more often then Lucius. And knowing the public, the next Minister will be just as gutless.

Snape sighed as he entered his sanctuary before he saw Sirius sit on a chair next to his table, with a bottle and two glasses.

Sirius looked up from the book he was reading before putting in a bookmark and putting it away, "Figured you would come here. You always went to the potion room whenever you wanted peace and privacy."

Severus' face was impassive, his Occlumency shields raised. He slowly closed the door and started walking toward his desk, never keeping his eyes off Sirius who remained motionless.

"I am not here to harm or kill you Severus," said Sirius as he pulled out his wand, "Should I perform a magic oath to ease your tension?" (8)

"That is not needed, Black," spoke Severus calmly, noting the wand. "That isn't the same wand you had when we were students."

Sirius looked at his wand before he put it away, "Azkaban changed me, Severus. I am not the same man I was before, and my old wand simply couldn't be used."

(The fact that it was snapped wasn't publicly known since it wasn't mentioned in arrest report – as small as it was.)

This gave Snape pause as he sat down opposite of Sirius, "Truly, Black? I find it hard to believe you have changed."

As Sirius started opening the bottle of scotch he brought with him, he told his story.

"You know about the Twelve-step program Muggles have for alcohol? Interesting thing really. Lily mentioned it in passing once when she was teaching us about the Muggle World. Never really bothered with it. But as the years went by in Azkaban, I had to find a way to pass the time and maintain my sanity. Shifting into my dog form helped, as did the fact that I was innocent, but it build up over time. So there I was, all alone, with no one but my thought. Spend the first year relearning Occlumency and strengthening my mental shields. Spend the next year figuring out how to do it in dog form. Then I spend the next seven just going through my life… shuffling along, organizing thoughts here and there, knowledge into vaults and what not… And I couldn't help but go into retrospection as I got into my Hogwarts years. And do you know what I realized? That hindsight is a coldhearted bitch."

Severus's brow raised as Sirius started pouring into the glasses.

"We can never go back and change those moments that take us off course. And I made a lot of decision that took me off-course. Many involved being a jackass and what not, but my biggest always came back to you."

Sirius took his glass and swished it around.

"I made a lot of poor decisions in my youth, but none so more then what the guys and I did to you. We made your life unbearable. We harassed you almost every day and tried separating you from Lily, your closest friend. We hanged you to pasture for those Death Eaters to get their claws in you. We made you fall into a life debt to James after he 'saved' your life."

Severus noted the emphasis on the word 'saved' – something felt off about that statement.

"As I sat there, I swore that if I were ever free, I would do something about it. The eight-step of the program was to make a list of all the people I have harmed and make amends with them. you were at the top of the list."

Severus continued staring.

"I know you can never forgive me, but I swore I would make an attempt. So here it is – I was a dunderhead, Severus. I was an egotistical, hormone driven, clueless idiot who thought with his lower brain and did whatever I wanted. I was rash, stupid, and should have at more than one point received my comeuppance. I was basically a psychopath that did whatever I wanted, when I wanted, regardless of consequence. I am a fool, and I am still a fool for not realizing it before I got myself locked up for not thinking things through."

Severus watched as Sirius took out his wand once more.

"I, Sirius Orion Black the Third, swear on my magic, that everything I told Severus Snape was the true and honest opinion of myself, what has transpired during my imprisonment in Azkaban, and I had stated. So mote be!"

Severus watched as a glow bathed over Sirius after which he immediately performed a simple _Lumos_ to show that it took hold.

Sirius put his wand away once more and continued holding his glass, watching for Sirius's reaction. What felt like hours passed before Severus lifted the glass and smelled it, noting the bottle.

"Macallan Sherrywood 40-year-old single malt scotch (9)… it's a start…Sirius."

Sirius allowed himself the smallest a smiles as the clanked their glass and drank down good scotch.

"This doesn't mean there isn't bad blood between us Sirius."

"I expected nothing less – I came not for forgiveness but rather to make my case."

Severus nodded as Sirius began pouring another shot for each of them, "What did you meet with the Weasley's about?"

"Nothing much – just wanted their opinion on whether or not Arthur would accept being admitted into the Black family."

"Yes. Ron Weasley was rather… vocal about it during dinner."

"He was the only one. The rest of the family seemed open to the idea."

"Even Percy?"

"He abstained, but he wasn't against it. How did the meeting with **Dumbledore** go?"

Severus noted Sirius clenched teeth, "Falling out?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Severus nodded, "Don't worry. You are not the only person who Dumbledore has screwed over in the years."

"Are we talking literally or figuratively?"

"Touché," said Snape as they gulped down their second glass. "Amelia tried to get something out of Albus, but couldn't do much. Despite all her smarts and dedication, Amelia never had the mindset of a politician."

"You can say 'manipulator,' Severus – no one would disagree."

"She was already pulling at strings when she managed to convince Albus to get Weasley and whoever he brought from Gringotts to check up the wards."

"About time."

"Yes… Albus has been rather lax about them. What about the missing DADA teacher?"

Severus frowned, "Dumbledore _allowed_ her to bring in Aurors to search for Quirinus Quirrell – wherever he may be."

"What about the positions for his class and history of magic?"

"Amelia said that she would find a replacement since Albus apparently can't keep his eyes on them."

Sirius chuckled, "Small victory. I'll help her out on that front."

"Indeed. She promised us a replacement for both by the end of the week."

Sirius smiled as he poured a third short for both of them, "Tell me, Severus… how strong are the magics you swore to keep all the secrets you hold when you started working for Dumbledore?"

Severus's paused, "stronger than the ones all teachers but within the same vein."

"So same structure and phrasing as it were?"

Severus nodded as Sirius smirked and started playing with his hands, "Let's play a game Muggles call 'Twenty Questions.' I'll start."

"Wait are you…"

"Do you know what happened to Quirrell?"

"No but…"

"Do you **suspect** as to what may have happened to Quirrell?"

Severus paused, "Yes…"

Sirius nodded, "Good, good… Do you suspect that it had something to do with the locked door on the third floor?"

"Yes." Said Severus, surprised at his ability to do so.

"Something I realized about our society when I was in Azkaban – despite all the power we hold and all the things, we wizards and witches have no common sense. So I really thought about it and realized that I don't have to get you to tell me anything – all I have to do is ask you questions. Nowhere in the contract does it say that you can't say 'yes' or 'no' nor does it prevent you aiding me in an attempt to discover anything that someone else may wish to keep hidden." (10)

Realization dawned on Severus as Sirius pushed on.

"Do you know what Albus is hiding behind the door?"

"Yes."

"Do the other teachers know?"

"No."

"Should I be concerned for the student's safety?"

"No."

"Okay, good to know…Where the students ever in danger?"

"Yes."

"Really?... Where the students in danger when Quirrell was here?"

"Yes."

"Where the students in danger because of something Quirrell would do?"

"No."

"Was Quirrell himself dangerous?"

"No."

"Odd… Was Quirrell a danger to himself?"

"Yes."

"Okay…Was something that Quirrel had dangerous?"

"Yes."

"Was it alive?"

"No."

"Was it an object?"

"No."

"What the… Was it a thing?"

"Yes."

Sirius paused – the last question was a joke. However…

"Was Quirrell possessed?"

" **YES."** Strained out Severus, surprised he actually could.

Sirius grabbed the sides of his chair as he leaned toward Severus.

"Was whatever possessing Quirrell after what was hidden in the room?"

"Yes."

"Was whatever that was hidden in the room something the spirit possessing Quirrell needed?"

"Yes."

Sirius started panicking and thinking, "Was whatever that was hidden in the room something I should know?"

Severus didn't answer, "Okay, too broad… Was whatever that was hidden in the room something only Albus would have access to?"

No answer still.

"Was whatever that was hidden in the room something only Albus could get his hands on?"

"Yes."

"Was whatever that was hidden in the room something that only Albus is knowledgeable about?"

"YES."

Sirius tapped his chin for a few seconds, "Was whatever that was hidden in the room something relating to alchemy?"

" **YES**."

Sirus suddenly recalled something he filed away in the deepest recesses of his mind, "Was whatever that was hidden in the room the Philosopher's Stone?"

" _ **YES."**_ Severus basically screamed out.

Sirius started shaking in fear, "One last question… Was Quirrell possessed by a spirit of Voldemort?"

Severus looked at Sirius in total fear, " _YES…."_

Sirius dropped and shattered his glass of scotch, "Son of a…"

* * *

 _November 1st, 2011 – Midnight_

 **Underneath the third floor room**

Harry whistled a jaunty tune as he walked through the black flames. Like they were actually going to hurt him.

Honestly, all these preventative measures were a joke.

The Cerberus? A puppy by Harry's standards – a good steak and a belly rub and he was good.

The Devil's Snare? Set on fire.

The Keys? Why bother – they charmed the door against the Unlocking Charm only. No one considered lock-picking apparently. Thank you, Dean.

The chess board? Like Harry wanted to play against an automaton. Teleporting behind them did the trick.

The empty room? Figured that's where the troll was supposed to be.

The riddle and flames? He was fire-proof.

So here he was – in a wide open chamber with only a mirror in the center. Harry slowly approached, ignoring the reflection and noting the writing on the frame.

" _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi…_ Really? _I show not your face but your heart's desire_? That is one screwed up mirror. Hell, it reads more like a cursed if anything." (11)

Harry looked at his reflection, noting that the mirror kept morphing and shifting without settling on anything.

"Huh…Guess I don't have any deep hidden desires… Yay? I guess I should be thankful."

Realizing that there was nothing else happening decided to turn on his sight. Noting something within the mirror itself, Harry into the mirror to find.

"I am having some serious Matrix flashback here."(12)

Eventually feeling something, Harry pulled out a shiny red stone.

"Well hello… what are you supposed to be, beautiful?"

Noticing a tracking charm on the rock, Harry reached, grabbed the spells physical essence, and flicked it off into the mirror. "Don't want that."

Polishing the stone as the mirror finally settled, Harry couldn't help but chuckle, "Don't know why Dumbledore is hiding it here, but he did a poor job doing so… Guess he needs to learn by experience."

Harry put the stone into his pocket and teleported back into his dorm room. He looked and noted that everyone was asleep. He silently opened his trunk and put the stone into one of its many compartments before locking it up once more and going to bed.

"I look into later – maybe Griphook knows what it is?"

* * *

November 4th, 2011 – Morning

 **Hogwarts Great Hall**

"Good morning students," spoke Dumbledore. "You may have noticed that we have new additions sitting at our staff table. They will be suspecting the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and History of Magic classes until the end of the school year. They have allocated room their busy lives to teach you. Please give them your full and undivided attention, for you new History of Magic Professor – Lord Sirius Black the Third."

There was polite cheering and clapping from most of the houses as Sirius waved.

"And for your Defence Against the Dark Arts, pleasing give a warm welcome - Miss Pandora Lovegood."

A stunningly pale women with shining silver hair and red eyes stood up, "Hej alla! I hope we all have a good year, nej? Underbar!" (13)

Harry smiled, "Well…never said that this place would be boring."

* * *

 **(1) Season 5, Episode 17, "99 Problems" - An Enochian chant was used by the townspeople of a church in Blue Earth, Minnesota. It was effective in exorcising demons. However, this chant, provided by the Whore of Babylon, proved to be fake and meant "you breed with the mouth of a goat." The demons were actually under orders to evacuate their hosts upon recitation of the fake Enochian exorcism.**

 **(2) Consigliere is a position within the leadership structure of the Sicilian, Calabrian and American Mafia. The word was popularized by the novel The Godfather (1969) and its film adaptation. The consigliere is a close, trusted friend, and confidant, the mob's version of an elder statesman; he is an adviser to the boss in a Mafia crime family, and sometimes is his 'right-hand man.' By the very nature of the job, a consigliere is one of the few in the family who can argue with the boss and is often tasked with challenging the boss when needed, to ensure subsequent plans are foolproof. Sounds perfect for Remus, no?**

 **(3) Don't know if this is a fanfiction trope or actually referenced in a book somewhere but it fits Snape's personality, so I am sticking with it.**

 **(4) Harry has his network around the school which is linked to its ward which is also connected to the map. Harry isn't aware of the map nor can he benefit from it the same way the map has benefited from his network.**

 **(5) Okay before you all kill me hear me out. This is a Remus who go this friend back, has three years less of 'wallowing in pity,' spend a decent chunk of time being reacquainted with his 'pack' as it were, and has a job that isn't technically charity. Him having the attitude to calmly reveal that he is a werewolf maybe OC, but at least I made it slightly plausible.**

 **(6) Did you really think he would stick around? He had a long time to read a newspaper laying around somewhere, so he made a run for it. Don't worry, he will be back.**

 **(7) This was pointed out in all the fanfictions I read, but it presents a compelling argument. Even if the 'Dark' and 'Grey' factions holding him back, Dumbledore did have decades to make at least some changes in the Wizarding World. And yet, he couldn't even update the Muggle Studies syllabus in Hogwarts.**

 **(8) Something made by the fanfiction community, a magic oath is a godsend to writers. Opens up a whole lot opportunities, especially if certain people want to show they are truthful, hold secrets, or be forced into situations.**

 **(9) Market price at $15,000 or £11,250.**

 **(10) Loopholes – unless it's written somewhere, its allowed. You ever wonder why some places have weird laws or regulations? Because they weren't there to prevent the last guy from committing them from actually committing them. (ie. There's a law in Colorado that makes it illegal to ride a horse under the influence and in Florida, if an elephant is left tied to a parking meter, the parking fee has to be paid as it would for a vehicle. I kid you not, it's an actual law."**

 **(11) And call back to chapter 2 – nailed it!**

 **(12) The scene** were **Neo touches the mirror in 'The Matrix' except Harry goe further in.**

 **(13) If you are having trouble imagining how Pandora looks, just look up Leonora Nakiri from 'Shokugeki no Soma', except Swedish rather then Danish. Also – SURPRISE M**********R! She's alive! (will explain in the future) (troll face)**

* * *

 **OMAKE**

 **I don't know why this struck me, but admittedly, since in my story Harry was raised primarily in America, it made sense in my twisted mind. All you need to know was that I was bored one day…**

 **P.S. To those not in the clear, this was originally between Theodore Roosevelt and Winston Churchill.**

 **P.S.S Also, as you read this, realize that my rhyming skills are non-existent.**

* * *

[Intro]

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!

LORD VOLDEMORT!

VERSUS!

HARRY POTTER!

BEGIN!

[Harry Potter]

Bully! A challenge! I love competition!

Now where would I mount the stuffed head of a Riddle?

I'm into fitness, running away from crazy witches!

Rough ridin' down to Hell like "What's up, Bitches?!"

I keep my rhymes pure, like my food and drugs

I'm an American stud, and you're the British Elmer Fudd!

I mean for Christ's sake! Look at that mug!

At least grow a spruce mustache and cover part of it up!

And let's face it, you're not all that great

You tossed away lives in the war like they were scraps off your plate!

Your whole miserable country is the size of one state!

I could see my way through running that without calling up Hecate!

Don't go toe to toe with me, you anorexic dead old man!

Why don't you Do-Si-Do on over to a 12 step program?

I'll bust a trust fund lush with my American muscles

So walk softly over here and give my big stick a suckle!

[Lord Voldemort]

Pass me a cigar and a large glass of brandy

I'm about to take you out prematurely, like your family

I'm the Rhyme Wizard, fresh in with wand and black cloak

You look like a drugged out Daniel Radcliffe, what a joke!

I was conquering Britain with my axis of darkness

While you were back home, sucking on milk, yes!

You were born asthmatic, you're going to choke hard

While I wake up every day and chain smoke cigars!

I'll fight you on the beaches

I'll fight you on the beats, yes!

Any way you want to fight I'll fight ya and I'll beat ya see?

I might be battling you even though I'm toasted

But tomorrow I'll be sober and you'll still be roasted!

[Harry Potter]

My parents died, while they were young and it was morbid

But at least they didn't ditch me when they were alive like yours did

Oh shit! World War Too soon?

Well Harry's dropping bombs! So you best go hide in your tube!

You should be ashamed of your military honor

Everyone knows you're back home like "Thank God Potter made him a goner!"

Don't worry, I will give you a pass

Just change your poster to keep calm and kiss my ass

[Lord Voldemort]

Steady there, I don't think it's very fair

For a British snake to melee with a Teddy Bear

You're no man! You're an overgrown Boy Scout

I should stuff you in a pram just so you can throw your toys out!

They put your fat head in the books to save face

But if legends were a band, then you'd play bass!

Look at Potter, the dude's about to lose the bout to Voldemort!

If a spell to the head won't stop you, my words will

[Harry Potter]

A spell can't stop the boy who lived!

HP will give LV the full deuce!

[Lord Voldemort]

Whatever shit you throw at me, I'll just return to sender!

I'll battle to the end and I will never surrender!

[Intro]

WHO WON?

WHO'S NEXT?

YOU DECIDE!

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY


	25. Not Much Happens

**Chapter 25: Not Much Happens**

* * *

 **Well, first, the usual spiel - MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!  
**

 **As a Russian-Jew, Christmas isn't really a thing for my family. To us, New Years is a much bigger deal.**

 **Enough of that though.**

* * *

 **Wow, it's been a year already. I would have posted this sooner but my brother became a father (and I an uncle) - they named her Ava - and stuff came up that delayed this more then I would have liked. In any case, it a nice point to reflect on how far I have gotten:**

 **Reviews: 537**

 **Followers: 1,606**

 **Favorites: 1,274**

 **Communites: 25**

 **Views: 226,154**

 **Nice. With this chapter update, it should be over 200,00 words so plus there as well.**

 **In any case, I have already surpassed the story that inspired this work - "** ** **Blood Doesn't Make Family" by MusicDefinesUsAll - in some parts, which had the following stats:****

 **Reviews: 777  
**

 **Followers: 3,299**

 **Favorites: 2,577**

 **Chapters: 18  
**

 **Words:** **78,989**

 **To be fair, the story has been around since Aug 11, 2012 sop it had more time to gather the stats.**

* * *

 **In any case, hope we all have a great 2018 and hopefully, I've managed to make another good chapter.**

 **My only request from you dedicated readers? A TvTropes page for this story.  
**

 **And finally...**

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 2011 - Evening_

I shouldn't laugh.

I really shouldn't laugh.

But I just can't help myself at times – I begrudgingly smile instead.

To be fair, I couldn't help but feel that I forgot one minor thing or that I was poking a sleeping dragon. But in all fairness, it just felt so… so…

I think the right phrase is 'jubilee.'

Getting rid of Quirrell and Binns did give everyone two days of no DADA or History – self-study for the win! – but our replacements? So worth it.

Sirius Black deciding to become a teacher was a surprise. I figured with his Auror background, the DADA position would have been a shoe-in for him. No, turns out the crazy bachelor of Gryffindor – not much longer, if rumors were true – was a history buff. Whether or not this was because he was expected to be Lord Black or just an odd hobby, it mattered not.

He started each class that day – including mine – the same way: he took a copy of the book for the year that we have been assigned since the time that Binns was still alive and burned it in front of us – while he tossed it in the air to boot.

As Professor Black put it, Binns was too fixated on the goblins and their wars. He argued that there was so much more interesting history to study that actually mattered. Seeing as how most wizards treated goblins – the sole controllers of British currency and economy – like shit could most like be linked back to said exorcised ghost.

Throwing in lessons about the etiquette and culture of wizards was just a backhanded way of informing the Muggle-born and Half-blood muggle raised students of things they should know.

DADA was… weird.

Not bad – just weird.

Gone was the garlic smell and the closed windows, so plus. Instead, we got wide-open windows with various knick-knacks and crystal laying or hanging around the newly refurbished classroom.

Still better.

Since DADA was the last class of my day, I had time to look up Pandora Lovegood, and I was pleasantly surprised. Before I 'infiltrated' the school, I only looked into the major families and Lords, one of which was her husband, Xenophilius "Xeno" Lovegood.

Something I should correct at a later date.

Interesting family, the Lovegoods. They had no distinct roots, but based on the pictures of their ancestors and the prevalence of pale-white skin and equally pale or light blond hair, I put my money on them having deep Scandinavian-Swedish-Norwegian roots. Amazingly, despite how long their history stretched, they seemed to have no issues with Muggle-born and Half-bloods. Hell, based on my – or rather, goblin – findings, they actually preferred to live in the Muggle World. Well, mainly the branch families of the Lovegoods, or those who didn't have a near albino appearance. If records were to be believed, one of the most well-known Lovegoods in recent history was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1) – his mother was a Lovegood – a Half-blood who chose to study mathematics at Oxford. He focused primarily on the fields of geometry, linear and matrix algebra, mathematical logic, and recreational mathematics, producing nearly a dozen books under his real name. Dodgson also developed new ideas in linear algebra and probability. From what I gathered, the family still received royalty checks from his books

It was because of this exchange of scientific and mathematical knowledge over the years – before and after Charles – up to the war that the family was respected for their spell creation. Why spell creation? Because spell creation requires a mastery of Arithmancy (2), which was basically 'magic math,' a significant part of spell creation as it was needed to calculate wand movements, word & syllable count, and who knows what else.

Anyway, I went on a tangent again. Pandora Lovegood – formerly Pandora Förunderlig (3) – went to a local Swedish magic school and never went for any masteries despite her high NEWT scores. Instead, the at the time young polymath (4) decided to do what any student who finished their higher education did – she went traveling to find herself. It was during her travels into the lost corners of the world that she eventually met Xeno while exploring the southern forests of China for the Jinmenju (5). Based on gathered second and third person accounts, it was a whirlwind romance that was followed by a shotgun wedding and for some strange reason, an escape from the Chines Magical and Muggle authorities. The end results? Two jade wedding rings, some scratches and bruises, maps that some people still wanted to get their hands on, and two new wands that were made of a wood observers couldn't recognize.

Take what you will from the story.

Say what you will about the goblins, they were thorough and deserved the gold and information I was paying them with. They were already making significant dividends in the stock market under the banner of Kobalos Incorporated (6), a company hidden behind so much paperwork and red tap, Muggles would never trace it back to them.

As they settled back down in Britain, Xeno started _The Quibbler_ and in a move that was enlightened for its time, gave Pandora a carte-blanch 'command' to do whatever she fancied at the time. Oh sure, they traveled together frequently as a pair and then as a family when their daughter came along – named Luna – looking for creatures no one has never heard of. But the rest of the year? She did whatever she wanted. At one point she did a deep dive into the effects of magic on crops. At another time she translated ancient texts from one dead language to another. And during a rather bizarre period a little after the war, she experimented with muggle drugs to see if they could be made magical. Suffice it to say, their daughter was born nine months later after what one goblin wrote down as was, 'a night in Barcelona that Bacchus would have been jealous of.'

She was recently working in spell creation with the use of the Lovegood extensive family library – magic and muggle - but due to the rising popularity of her husband's paper in the last few years, Xeno was forced to ask for his wife's assistance in running it (7). She understood where he was coming from and seeing as he indulged her needs without question, she did the same for him. She hasn't used her spell lab since.

Guess since she decided to come to school as a DADA teacher meant that Xeno must have finally adjusted or hired new helpers for his growing business. Wonder if I should ask the goblins to buy shares in his paper? I hope it isn't privately owned.

Suffice it to say, with such a hectic life story, she was bound to have nuggets of information that the books didn't.

And she did.

Despite having only one class with her, everyone who had her on that Friday found her to be… illuminating. She had of way of describing magic as something organic and tangible, rather than something that could be broken down into simple movements and a few phrases.

Well, maybe not everyone. Ravenclaws found her hard to follow – especially Hermione, whose thought patterns were just too logical to follow her lateral thinking – but they accepted the fact that she was a superior teacher compared to who she was replacing. Hufflepuff seemed to instinctually trust her – I swear the house has a pack mentality I wish I never piss off (8). Slytherins – or most of them – just either couldn't bother to follow along, didn't bother understanding her, or thought she was a Half-blood or Muggle-born.

(I checked – she was Pure-blood, just not from families with long histories compared to most high standing British Pure-bloods).

Gryffindors were a mixed bag. Most found her funny and easy to listen to. Some had difficulty following her tangents. Others hunkered down and chose to give her a chance. And _some_ had the nerve to call her 'Dark' after class because they couldn't understand her.

The twins loved her though, and they haven't had a class with her yet.

I feared the outcome of said two forces mixing.

I also feared them picking up some Swedish swears to use without their mother finding out what they were saying.

In any case, I surreptitiously did a scan of her with my Sight and made sure no one spotted me. I wasn't a betting man, but she seemed to have _something_ in her history that wasn't 100% Kosher human. Maybe a grandmother on one side who was more than just a witch but it was hard to tell. Without seeing someone else from her family for comparison, it was only a guess. Her daughter would be attending next year, so hopefully, my itch would be satisfied.

The day would have ended on that note had I not accidentally caught Professor Lovegood's interest…

"Ett ögonblick [one moment], MacLeod."

I was the last student still in the room when I turned to face her, "Yes Professor?"

She summoned a chair for me to sit in as she pulled out a tea set from her desk. Seeing no harm, I indulged her fancy.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"Nej nej [No no], not at all," she smiled as she waved her hand and pour green tea for us both, "I just wanted to take the pulse of the class, så att säga [so to speak]. Word around the castle is that you are the ledare [leader] of the 1st year Gryffindors, no?"

I sipped my tea before replying, "If that is the case. The position hasn't been thrust on me so to speak."

"Sann [true] – leadership is never sought but given. One must not desire power to be able to wield it properly. For as they say, absolut kraft förstör absolut [absolute power corrupts absolutely]."

"You are going to have to cast a translation charm at some point. Swedish isn't really my forte."

"Oh. Are you a polyglot (9) as well? I figured being a genius is good enough based on what Miss Granger and Miss Bones say."

I chuckled, "No, just well read. And it's nice to know that those two represent their 1st years."

"Well, when they are part of such a prestigious study group such as yours, they are bound to pick something up, nej?"

I smiled, "You flatter me, but it's nothing that no one else can take advantage of."

"No? A collection of 1st years from three different houses all working together to better themselves? Jag tror inte det [I think not]. And please forgive my slip-ups – I am used to speaking both languages at home."

I raised my hand, "It's not a problem – just concern for the other students. And to your earlier question, I know a few languages."

She sipped her tea as she raised a brow, "Oh? And what is a few?"

I put down the cup as I counted off fingers, "Well, other then English, there's Latin, Mandarin, Japanese, Hebrew, Arabic, German, a smattering of French and Spanish, and some rudimentary Hindu."

"No Enochian?"

Had I not just placed my cup down a moment before and had control of myself, I would show some semblance of shock.

"Forgive me Professor, but Enochian is an occult language made-up by John Dee and his colleague Edward Kelley. It's not real."

"Nej? If you are so well informed that you should be aware that John Dee was a Squib of a now-defunct family."

I tried to control myself, "I did not know that."

She smiled as she interconnected her fingers, "Just like you don't know that Enochian is the 'Engelska språket' [Language of Angels]?"

"Angels aren't real, Professor."

"Just like Hunters aren't real?"

My brow twitch gave me away.

"Ah, yes, me and Lord Black were informed of the discussion your guardian had with the staff and Amelia Bones. It is not often I get a chance to talk with someone part of that world and not accuse me of being a demon dealing witch."

My smile stayed strong, "Your accent is slipping, Professor Lovegood."

She raised her hand to her mouth, "I am just taking your advice to heart. But let's pretend that we are informed individuals who have sett bakom gardinen [seen behind the curtain]. I sensed the magic you used to send Binns of to the next world. Exorcism?"

I sighed in resignation, "Yes… best decision I have made to date during this school year."

"Ja, ja [yes, yes]. He was always hung up on the goblins – his family had a feud with them that lived on through him. Tell me though, how is it that you know Enochian?"

"I can ask you the same thing. Does your husband know the language?"

"Tyvärr nej [sadly no]. He never had the gift of tongues as it were. I only managed to come across enough real manuscripts on my travels to at least recognize it. He was a Magizoologiest through and through while I was the magpie."

"A slip of the tongue or did you actually take things that weren't yours?"

"Oh, I have rädda [rescued] things to prevent them from being used by the felaktiga händer [wrong hands]. Whether or not they have helped me in my research is neither here nor there."

I chuckled, "Good for you. Can I assume your daughter has inherited your inquisitive nature?"

Her smile faltered a bit there, "Yes, but unfortunately, teaching her Enochian at an early age seemed to have öppnade sitt sinne [openned her mind] a bit too much."

I raised a brow, "She can see magic?"

"Ja, and other things. I don't know why it struck her so hard. I worry for her – she perceives things that no one will ever understand."

"It's is a parents job to worry about their children. But don't worry yourself. When she comes next year, she will have someone to help her to come to terms with her abilities."

"Oh, you know someone with a similar ability?"

I smiled s I finished my tea, "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. It couldn't hurt to have a future Ravenclaw with such potential as a friend."

"So sure of yourself there, liten griffin [little griffin]?"

"I have to be, I was a snake at first – ambition comes with the territory."

She clapped her hands in excitement, "Underbar [Wonderful]! I knew I made the right chose to pick you!"

"Say what now?"

"Kom nu [come now], did you think my talk was to interrogate you about Binns? No no. I was just simply looking for my daughters best interests. With you in this school at least trying to unify the houses, I am sure my daughter will be lycklig [happy] and säker [safe] in Ravenclaw with Miss Granger."

"She has to be put into that house first and befriend Hermione before it comes to that."

"Oh, oroa dig inte [worry not]. She is as intelligent and spunky as I was during my youth. And tro mig [believe me], she will be your friend – she is just too impish not to like!"

I smiled as I got up, "I'll take your word for it. Can I assume that this little discussion won't makes it's way back to the Headmaster?"

She waved her hand as she became slightly annoyed, "Nej, nej, that old fuddy-duddy tried to get me and Lord Black to sign the standard teaching agreement. But since neither of us are sure if we plan to stick around afterward and since the year already started, we managed to get around it."

I raised a brow, "Really? But by the same token, there are things he can't discuss with either of you as private information wouldn't be magic bound."

"So? What could they possibly discuss that would get my interests?"

"How about the Cerberus on the 3rd floor?"

She smiled, "Hagrid already told me, and I confirmed it. Välsigna den oskyldiga själen [bless that innocent soul], he just can't keep a secret. How do you know about it?"

I sipped my tea nonchalantly, "I like to take midnight walks around the castle."

She raised a brow, "One that somehow got you in the headlights of giant dog?"

"Very _enthusiastic_ walks." (10)

She smiled, "I know a man who does something very similar. But unfortunately, he had a very dålig vana [bad habit] of tripping over his feet as he didn't pay attention to the road in front of him."

I smiled ,"Then you husband should be very happy that he found you to catch him when he slips."

Pandora smiled as she finished her cup, "This was trevlig [nice]. Would you like to make this a common thing? I am a night-owl by nature."

"I'll cross your office on my walks and see if you are awake if that's okay. Should I bring anything?"

She waved her hand, "Nej, nej. I would just to pick your brain as it were about your Hunter knowledge."

I nodded in turn. "Well then, good day to you Professor, but I have to meet up with said study group."

As I was about to leave, she shouted across the classroom, "Do you plan to add Slytherin to your group?"

"Believe me, I want to, but it's a little challenging to make the first contact without _certain_ parties interfering."

Lovegood finished her tea, "Well then, I guess I'll just to force some interhus samarbete [inter house cooperation]. Have a good night then, Mr. MacLeod."

"You too, Professor."

* * *

Pandora watched Harry leave after a very fruitful conversation. As he left the room, she got up and checked underneath his chair, making sure the Angel Trap was still there.

"Oh phooey! And here I thought we had an angel among us. Jaja [Oh well]! He will make a good anchor to hold Luna down to earth. Hope they get along."

* * *

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 2011 - Night_

"So how was your first day, Pads?"

Sirius looked up pondering from the desk in his room – not office – as he looked away from the mirror in his hand. "It was… challenging."

Remus quirked his brow, "Oh? Do tell."

"The older years and anyone who cares about my name seem to be trying to suck up to me in their own little way. The lower years care neither here nor there. Material wise, I got a lot of revisioning and catching up to do to get the O.W.L and N.E.W.T years caught up. Oh, and I am trying my best not to kill Albus."

"That bad?"

Sirius chauffed, "He still hasn't caught on why I call him Chief Warlock more often then Headmaster. Thank Merlin Pandora and I managed to get out of signing those damn teaching contracts, or else magic would force me otherwise."

"That's actually in there?"

"I skimmed through it and saw mention of it. Tell me Remus – we were really that blind or was his image just so bright that we couldn't see the shadows?"

Remus sighed on the other end of the call, "Sorry to say, but I am the wrong person to ask this. I managed to get a peek at what he truly is, but I still haven't been able to take off the rose-colored glasses."

"I don't blame you; he did give you an education when the minor schools wouldn't take you."

"But that's just it," Remus sighed.

"What is?"

"He took me – a werewolf – and got me through Hogwarts without anyone except for teachers and three other finding out. I seem like a kind gesture when taken that way, but when you consider all implications…"

"Moony… where are you going with this?"

"If you honestly believe that he wasn't aware that you didn't get a trial and that he had no choice but to send Harry to Lily's sister, you are still left with a rather unpleasant can of worms. First off, why was he send to Petunia? I get that Albus wasn't there at the will reading nor at the naming of the Godparents, but for his first instinct to send the boy away? Why not get a will-reading? If he had asked, they would have told him about its stipulation, which would have made him question why you would betray your best friends. Plus, he never bothered looking up the will in the six years before Harry disappeared? That's not procrastinating – that's just ignorance."

"True…"

"There also the fact that whisperings of his band of Death Eaters have been forming a decade before the war started. Considering that Voldemort also recruited the darkest of creatures, which included werewolves, doesn't it seem odd that he happens to allow one to attend his school, which puts said werewolf in his good grace and one who willingly went to try to convince others like himself to reject Voldemort during the war?"

Sirius paused, "You're not painting a pretty picture here, Moony. Either Albus saw an opportunity and took it, or he spends several years brainwashing you to believe that you owed him. By that logic, he would have looked down on you, and considering how he has done squat for Muggle-borns and those classified as creatures, I would have to go with the later."

"Then there is the prophecy Lily and James whispered of. We never got to hear it, but I know she mentioned that it could have applied to another. Considering what happened to the Longbottoms and how often Albus visited Augusta to check up on Neville, it adds up."

"And that is what worries me more. Prophecies are precise, no if's, and's, or but's to them. They are either very general or centered around one individual. The fact that both Albus and Voldermort believed that it applied to two people already makes it suspect – if it even still applies."

"You think Voldemort is still alive, Pads?"

Sirius rubbed his neck, "If he weren't, Albus wouldn't have sent Harry away to the Muggle World for so long. That or he _believes_ that Voldemort lives on like his followers. It's only a suspicion that unfortunately has been strengthened."

"What happened?"

"As I was burying the hatchet with Severus, I managed to… _discover…_ that Albus has placed the Philosopher's Stone in the castle behind a series of challenges. I don't know what kind, I couldn't get around that magical bind. I do however know that Severus – or at least Dumbledore – suspected that Quirrel was possessed by Voldemort."

Remus was silenced, "Really? Did they have proof or was this just a delusional hunch?"

Sirius chuckled, "Under most circumstances, I would laugh as well. But considering that a DADA teacher – instead of stopping a troll – ran to the hall during dinner and promptly passed out after warning everyone, I doubt it. That, and he still hasn't been found. Either Quirrell got scared off, or he literally bit off more then he can chew."

"Cerberus?"

"Possible. He was placed there as a guard dog – I doubt he as told the distinction regarding faculty and thief. But it was doing its job – the DMLE can only make the case that it was placed in the school with a permit or something. Albus did warn everyone in the school that entering that room would be met with certain death, so he actually covered his bases."

"Clever. Is the stone still there?"

"Don't know. Either Albus did check and is keeping quiet, or he hasn't bothered. Knowing how unflappable he considers himself, it's more likely he hasn't bothered yet."

"The better question is how he managed to convince Nicolas to 'lend it' to him for the school year. I doubt someone as old as him would have fallen to a Compulsion or an Imperius, but a good lie with a dashing of Felix Felicis – Albus said before that he has used it recreationally. Even someone like Flamel can't fight against that."

"Possible. Should I message him or wait for the fall-out, Moony?"

"I say wait for the fall-out. If Albus considered himself a spider in a middle of a giant web, then a sudden breeze that rips it up will significantly hinder him – working under pressure has never been his foray."

"Fair enough. Are you going to be okay? The full moon is in five days. Maybe you should come to the shack instead of locking yourself in Grimmauld Place all alone."

"I won't be alone. I will be locked up sure, but Narcissa promised that she will keep watch."

"What has Nissa been up to?"

"She has been making inquiries with her, shall we say, former contacts around Europe, trying to track her ex-husband and _son_. Last she heard, he was somewhere in Romania trying to get the vampires to heal his son's mind."

"Considering that Draco is half-Black, there is a good chance the insanity will either stick, or he will take the Bellatrix route. Speaking of, have you made inquiries regarding her status?"

"Still screaming and frothing at the room in her cell. You know she actually can't call herself a Black anymore? Seems magic actually silences her when she tries now. And I don't see her calling herself Bellatrix No-Name anytime soon. Out of curiosity, did her banishment also remove her knowledge of the Black's Magics?"

"Nope – only her proficiency in the spells due to her blood. She is still a Black, just without the benefits. I would have sent someone to Obliviate the knowledge from her brain but…"

"She is in Azkaban and already crazy, who knows how much she actually remembers. Besides, she wasn't a closet bookworm like you."

Sirius perked up from their dreary talk, "HEY! I was not a closet bookworm. I was well-read to impress the ladies with my witty repertoire and assemblage of facts."

"YOU TOOK THE FREAKING HISTORY POSITION OVER DADA!"

"Only to screw with people, Moony. Plus, I do enjoy history."

"Only because it glorifies your family."

"I think you mean degrade."

"Touche."

Sirius chuckled at his friend's antics, "In any case, are you going to be able to sit in for Prongslet as well as the House of Black on the 26th?"

"Depends. Have you verified the letter Harry left you via goblin?"

"Yep. Short of magical signature, Harry gave every conceivable form of verification stating that that House of Black can act in the stead of the House of Potter till their Heir is of age to become Lord. And since I have basically made you my Consigliere capable of acting as my proxy – as I fear my exposure to Dementors have 'affected' me negatively – you can also act as the proxy for harry as well."

Remus shook his head, "How am I dragged into this so easily?"

"The better question would be how far the other families will go to support their causes. Once your placement comes up at the monthly Wizengamot meeting, and people realize Albus was an illegal proxy, all the past rulings that failed or passed due to the Potter Vote are going to rear up their ugly head from the grave. My advice – get charmed rings or bracelet for spell and poison detection in food and drinks. You are already safe on the mental front."

"The one benefit of being a werewolf I actually don't regret."

"Speaking of Wizengamot, do you know the December meeting is on Christmas Eve? I thought there was a bylaw that came into play when the 4th Saturday of the month falls on a holiday."

"It would apply if it was Christmas, not Christmas Eve."

"DRAT!"

"Same old Padfoot."

"Same old Moony."

As Sirius was about to put down his mirror, "WAIT PADFOOT!"

"Yes?"

"Did you… look into the other matter?"

Sigh, "Look Moony, I've trusted your nose more often then I would like to admit, but you forget that as a Grim Animagius, my sense of smell is on par as well, even if weaker."

"I know Pads but still… I smelled something in that hall that day…"

"Was it Pronglset?"

"I don't know. It just… triggered something in me… a memory. The only scent I can think of would be Harry."

"And I have met most of the 1st years today, so unless Harry is under a Merlin-forsaken Fidelius Charm through which your nose managed to penetrate, we are not going to be making any headway."

"Okay, but still…"

"I'll keep my eyes open."

"Fine. And…"

"I'll ask Pandora for advice if I am feeling desperate."

* * *

 _November 8_ _th_ _, 2011 - Library_

"You know, having spent time around a competent DADA teacher makes me wonder how someone like Quirinus Quirrell had the qualifications to be hired?"

"A what now?" looked up Hannah from her work.

Harry was currently surrounded by his friends and acquaintances from three houses in the library studying. He still hasn't made progress on the Slytherin front, but Professor Lovegood assured him she had something planned.

"DADA – Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sorry, I abbreviated by accident. It's a habit I picked up from Dad."

"Ah yes. The mysterious father who works across the pond." Terry began to raise his head from his books, closing them. "The one you choose to never talk about."

Harry could only smirk, "It's not that I never talk about him. It's just that no one really asks me about my life."

At this Padma couldn't help but laugh out loud. She was sitting on the other end of the table, but even she couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. She probably wasn't the only one either. No matter how hard Harry tried, he seemed to attract everyone's attention. At first, he assumed it was because he was friends with Neville – he was the heir to the House of Longbottom. When that theory didn't pan out, he just kept trying to avoid being noticed. Being as tall as he was made it difficult. Add in the fact that rumors about Halloween still persisted, and if anything, it made him more mysterious and dangerous – particularly to the female student body.

"Please MacLeod," stated Padma, as she turned to him. "You are the most intriguing piece of gossip we had in years at the Ravenclaw House."

"How so?"

"Harry, no matter what anyone argues, you were a temporary part of the Slytherin House; they always attract the most cunning, resourceful, and ambitious students out of the first year bunch."

Harry nodded at Padma's statement, sounding suspiciously like something Mimir would say.

 _Note to self – remember you have a standing date with the Sorting Hat._

"It is also composed mostly of Pure-bloods from established families who are either friends with each other or knew about the families ever since they were kids. You, however, are an unknown McLeod."

Harry was about to defend himself, but Padma kept going.

"You're British – that can't be denied since you were accepted to Hogwarts. We can accept the fact that you don't know your birth parents names to confirm it. But then there's the fact that you were raised in America for the last few years with a father – named Crowley, right? – who no one has ever heard of or could find anything about. And trust me, we _all_ looked. The closest reference to that name we could find was for a MacLeod in Scotland, but that's because his grave was desecrated some time ago…."

 _Thank you, Winchesters. You had to make the news, didn't you?_

"…yet we know that he is well off – just look at your trunk!"

Even Neville had to nod at that, "Trust us McLeod – my family is well off, but even we wouldn't splurge on such a trunk."

Harry just assumed that such magical trunks were the norm, but after he was caught walking out of his after an all-night study session, he was bombarded with questions and awe from every boy in the Gryffindor sleeping room (except for Ron).

"But even if we ignore your mysterious father…"

"Foster-father," corrected Harry.

"Fine, foster-father… You are equally enigmatic. You are smart, tall, good-looking in a dangerous way sort of way, and have enough power to give older students a run for their galleons."

Padma's backhanded compliments caught Harry off-guard, but he was undeterred.

"I don't have control though."

"No first year does, Harry," interjected Hermione, "but you are still up there in power. Some are already suspecting that you aren't entirely human?"

"That raises an interesting question – are you human, Harry?" added Susan.

"I know nothing about my birth parents, and my Dad never found anything to determine if one or both of them were wizards or even fully human. I shouldn't have to remind you that there are half-bloods in the Slytherin House as well, now do I?"

"But that doesn't mean that you aren't a pure-blood though right?"

"Susan, if you spend as much effort looking into my background as you are implying, you would know more about them and how they died then me."

Harry took a cursory look around the room, surprised at all the eyes following him. He sighed in exhaustion realizing this issue wasn't going to go away. It's better to do damage control now rather than let rumors spread. He stood up, "All right, everyone who wants to hear my story get over here now. This is a one-time offer!"

Harry smirked as his little study group quickly put away their parchments and books as they gave him their undivided attention. Hermione, Anthony, Padma, Terry, Susan, Hannah, Ernest, Justin, Neville, Dean, and Seamus – yes, somehow those two got pulled in – all stared at him in complete fascination.

"Now, all that I am about to say is as much I care to reveal – this and this alone. I don't care if the other houses find out. What I won't tolerate is anyone…embellishing the tale."

He let that implication hang in the air.

"My father is very secretive, as he should be - all practitioners of magic are. His job is what Muggles refer to as a "fixer." That doesn't really encompass what he does, though. Like Lucius Malfoy, he is someone who can make anything happen – he just makes sure no one knows he and his associates are responsible for it."

Susan gave Harry a quizzical look, "Sorry Susan, but it's true – if anything happens in the wizarding world, then one way or another, Lucius had his hand in it. Amelia knew it as did most of the Light Side families."

She nodded in agreement and allowed Harry to continue. "He primarily works for Muggles and likes living in their world – don't give me that look, Justin, there are benefits – but he does work for magic users once in a while. His business is referral based – unless of course, you're resourceful enough to contact him or one of his employees on your own."

Hermione began to pout at this reveal but, "Oh, don't worry Hermione, it's not that you weren't successful in your endeavors. Believe it or not, he wrote to me a while back mentioning that somebody on my end was looking into him from this school. If anything, you are a confirmation that his methods are working."

Her eyes began to sparkle at this realization, but the next moment, fear came over her. "Wait, how did he know who I was? Was he the one who send that giant black raven to deliver that package last week?"

 _That was Gabriel sending me candy actually, but that surprised me as well. Like Crowley would ever send a raven – he has a hellhound for that._

Harry could only smile evilly before continuing, ignoring Hermione's inquiry, "My father business may be centralized in the USA, but he has been slowly branching his agents out to the major cities in other nations – he prefers to be directly involved in the deals, so he tends to stick close to home. He doesn't trust even his closest and longest-known associates… except for one of course."

"Just what can he do?" asked Ernest.

"Big or small, anything within the limitations of Muggle and magic laws."

"Like?"

"Well, it depends… He tends to avoid wizards since they would notice if something changes dramatically in their environment, but he has made and broken several major corporations in the past."

Harry rubbed his chin before snapping his fingers, "Oh! He got one of the president's removed from office. He doesn't do that anymore though… he prefers his agents in the White House, not being kicked out of it."

This caused a few kids to gasp in surprise, but most of them were confused by that statement. Harry could only tell them to talk to the Muggle-born or Muggle-taught kids afterward to understand his story.

"How is he paid?" asked Anthony.

"It varies. Dad's prices are consistent for everyone, but he is open to bargaining and in rare cases, even negotiations. More importantly, however, he keeps his word. That's his only rule – never go back on a deal. As he likes to put, he is better than those charlatans on Wall Street."

Terry finally asked, "Is he a wizard?'

That caused Harry to pause, almost as if wording out his statement beforehand.

"Yes and no. He has magic and is technically Pure-blood," some people caught the subtext behind this declaration, "but he is self-taught. He never attended a wizarding school – they call it Ilvermorny in North America, right? - but he was tutored by others at one time or another. Unfortunately, that makes his skill set and knowledge rather…particular. He may not be as well rounded as the teachers at this academy, but in his selected matters he is unrivaled, except for a rare few."

"What wand does he have?" asked Hannah.

"He doesn't have a wand. By the time he was old enough to get one, he was already proficient enough in wandless and wordless magic in useful spells to function without issue. Plus, a man waving around a wand in the Muggle world to get things done? Please, a seven-foot wizard with a staff living in Chicago is less noticeable." (11)

Some nodded, accepting the reasoning in that argument.

"Unfortunately, since he – and my uncle - taught me everything I know about magic, I am uncomfortable with using wands."

Padma clapped her hands in realization, "That why you can make things come to you without trying! You're using wandless and wordless magic."

Harry couldn't help smiling at his gaffs, "Yes, yes, I got content performing magic I did know that way. And before anyone asks, no, I won't tell you what other magics I was taught."

Everyone groaned at that.

"What do you know, besides magic of course?" asked Neville, finally speaking up.

"Funny you ask me that. In my free time, I have been reviewing the books in the library regarding the foundations of magic. While it seems the basis of it all is ritual – preset actions or rules, so to speak – it appears to take two different approaches. I like to simplify it as the division of art and craft."

"What does that have to do with…" began Hermione.

"Patience. The art refers to actual magic – the use of wandless and wordless magic, the proper phrasing of the words and motion of the hand, and else such. The craft refers to everything else that relies on magic – tools, potion, clothes, runes… if you made it with magic and your hands, its craft. Professor Snape would be a master of craft for his potion preference while Professor McGonagall would be a master of art for Transfiguration. My dad favored craft, so I am rather knowledgeable in such things from around the world. Due to this, I am versed in a variety of languages, ceremonies, customs, spells, crafting, mythologies, and lore."

"Why?" asked Dean and Seamus at the same time.

"Because it's easier to do business with people if you can relate to them. I mean, when my uncle and I went to Japan, the natives were more likely to trust and talk to us simply because we could speak their language and knew what to do at the right times."

Padma perked up, "You speak Japanese?"

"Not that well, unfortunately – my uncle did most of the talking. Most ancient texts are from the Middle East and Europe, so I was taught Latin, Hebrew, German, Old English, and Arabic initially. I have a passing familiarity with languages like French, Spanish, Chinese, and others. I am, however, knowledgeable in Enochian writing – BUT NOT SPEECH…never speech."

Two questions instantly came up, "Why German?" and "What's Enochian?"

"First you, then you. German because during the Dark Ages, monks recorded everything down for those few centuries and most people in Europe at the time spoke some version of Germanic or its derivative. It the same reason I learned Hebrew – rabbis wrote down EVERYTHING. There's a reason why the Jews were hounded even to this day – they have long memories and even longer lists of secrets."

"Amen," said Hermione almost instinctively.

This caught a few people by surprise.

 _This is what you get when you don't tell kids anything about the Muggle World._

"Regarding Enochian however… ask anyone who has ever studied Ancient Runes and they will say it's the language of the Christian angels."

Anthony perked up in recognition, "Wait, I though Enochian is a dead language. Sure, books claim that it once had power, but no one can make it work."

Harry started laughing, "Please, don't lie to yourself or us. It's just that wizards are taught through their lifetimes to use magic under different guidelines."

"What do you mean?" asked Ernest.

"It's a mentality thing. Enochian plays by old rules. Making Enochian work demands…a certain price from the user that most people – particularly wizards - are unable to make."

Students stopped fidgeting at this point. It was Susan who found the courage to ask, "What payment would that be?"

"Short answer – blood. Long answer – your soul."

Silence.

"Like I said, old magic means old rules."

Neville was first to regain his voice, but most were starting to realize they were about to see a very, VERY dark side to Harry MacLeod.

"You can't be serious, Harry."

"A little bit. Ancient magics have a test build into them, something along the lines of seeking the truth behind the truth."

 _Thank you, Edward Elric. (12)_

"What do you mean?"

Harry turned to look at Justin, "Have you ever heard the story of Odin?"

"The Norse god?"

"Is there another individual in history named Odin? Anyway, the Norse understood the nature of sacrifice better than most – besides the Aztecs, of course, but they took things to far. In any case, legend states that twice in Odin's life he paid the price for greater power. First, when he sacrificed his right eye to gain vast knowledge by drinking from Mimir's well. The second time was when he hung himself from a tree on a noose with spears through his body for nine days – without food and water - to learn the secret of Nordic runes."

"Why?" inquired Dean.

"Because such magic – as the writings put it - demands an empty vessel. Or rather, a broken vessel."

The girl from the ceilings almost fell to the floor but managed to levitate back up.

"B..b..broken?" stuttered Padma.

"Sorry, it's a little exaggeration but on point. The Norse have a rune called perthro, which symbolizes an empty cup lying sideways. It could be mean a spilled drink, or a cup waiting to be filled, or a cup for throwing dice, like fate."

"I don't understand," added Terry.

"Only people who have known great pain have the capacity to learn such ancient magics. The pain makes one hollow…a receptacle for said magic."

"Why can't we learn Enochian then?" asked Hermione, probably wondering why such a lesson has never been taught before by the teachers. She seemed to be considering taking notice regarding this.

"Because such pain requires incredible sacrifice. Most people die before they get that far. But as my uncle likes to put it, it's a fair price for such knowledge. However, even if one of you managed to get through such pain – which can be emotional, mental, and/or physical in nature – wizard essence is different from Muggle ones. Wizards souls are rather well constructed, in order to handle and take in the natural energy of the world to use magic."

"Even Muggle-borns and Half-bloods?"

Harry pondered at this. "It's possible but unlikely. I never actually met anyone who would fall under such circumstance."

"But what about you? If what you are saying is true, you shouldn't be able to use such magic."

"Ah, a clever question. Yes, under normal circumstances, that would be the case. While most Muggles under the right circumstances would be able to use such ancient magic – _like Hunters_ – wizards of any degree are unable to. However, as the saying goes, rules are meant to be broken."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't describe how, but I'll give you all two clues. One, an individual's being isn't set in stone until they are much older – we are rather malleable while we are young. Secondly, there are many ways out there to…damage the soul, as it were. As I recall, it's not the casting of the Killing Curse that does the damage, but rather the outcome of the spell."

Everyone palled at that, "You didn't actually…"

"No. I didn't find out about the Unforgivable Curses until I came to Hogwarts. My Dad kept me isolated from others for a long time with good reason. My childhood has made me…damaged, in more ways than one. It took my uncle months to put me back together as it were."

Harry paused again before continuing, "If however, you choose to walk this path, I suggest you check if you are able to see Thestrals – they serve as an indicator if you are on the first step of your journey."

Neville decided to change the direction of the conversation to something different and asked, "How did you know how to fight the werewolves on Halloween?"

Harry looked at Neville.

Neville pressed on, "Look, me and Hermione didn't say anything, but rumors persisted and _some people_ ," Neville looked around at everyone in the group, "managed to put the pieces together."

Harry smiled, "Well, at least you tried Neville. In any case, part of my Dad's business occasionally involves removal of monsters. Realizing that one way or another I would run into them due to his business, he decided to prepare me for the horrors I would face. I don't know how aware of this you guys are, but the New World is a magnet for all sorts of creatures, good and bad. Due to all the cultures and people living there – plus a variety of climates – it's a goldmine for them. Trust me, the worse you get on the islands is werewolves. In America, demons and ghost are the norms."

This caused most kids faces to become white with fear. Technically, he was on the money. Harry has heard of creatures called Dementors, but they were controlled. Werewolves, however, were an ever-present threat in the forefront of every parent's mind. Especially in the countryside.

"Hold up McLeod," Susan was shuffling to sit up, "does that mean that you have killed monsters before?"

"I plead the 5th in that regard."

"The what?"

"US Amendment? Right to not answer?... Never mind. All I am saying is that I would prefer not to answer that particular question. I have no idea how certain individuals would feel about me regarding that fact. I will however admit…to the removal of the unrecoverable."

"Unrecoverable?"

"Like I said, the world isn't black and white – there's a whole lot of gray. Many people out there have a chance at redemption for whatever they have done. But there are some, who are so far gone, so corrupted, that nothing can possibly save them, turning them into true monsters. The worst that I have had the pleasure to run across was the Wendigo."

"What's a wendigo?"

"A wendigo is what happens when one becomes so lost, so desperate in the throes of nature and hunger, so lost in the mind that they resort to the most sinful act of being to survive the harsh winters."

"You mean…" stuttered Hannah, realizing what he was saying.

"A lot of people got particularly worried when a Muggle sports team crashed into a mountain in winter during their flight a decade or two back. Luckily, the few that survived were forgiven for their actions and managed to live normal lives – just with a horrible, dark marks on their souls. If you thought casting the Killing Curse was bad, trust me… Cannibalism is so much worse to handle."

The study group was beginning to realize that MacLeod kept his secrets close to him. But even with the opportunity that was presented in front of them, most were feeling too ill to continue. The things he was saying… they were issues they as children were not supposed to know about yet. Before them stood someone so jaded, yet so young. Some would call him broken – they were technically right. Harry preferred to think that Crowley simply threw him into the deep end of the pool of life and Harry managed to float.

"Who's the uncle you keep referring to?" asked Anthony.

He put his hands through his hair, pulling it back, exposing his forehead, before allowing to set down again. (13)

"My Dad truly loves, as much as a man can love his own blood but… his business meant that occasionally he would be away for extended periods of time, especially last year. We always stayed in touch, and he told me things to study or recommendations to read when he wasn't around to continue my education. Dad had one friend he trusts unconditionally, someone he has known for years. They have lived through situations that would break most. They were true brother in arms – two sides of the same coin as it were. I call him uncle, but I have no blood relations with him. His name is Gabriel – well, the name he goes by with Dad and me is Gabriel, but he has so many others. Actually, I have a Muggle picture of them both if you wanna see."

Hermione perked up, "Are you talking about Father Bell?"

"Yes, I am."

He took out the picture from his robe, something he captured on their trip to Canada to see the Northern Lights during one winter.

Hermione looked at the unmoving image – and everyone else who managed to get behind one of her shoulders to see as well.

Crowley looked like what most have expected – a little on the short side but well groomed and trimmed, somewhat finely aged in appearance. The black suit was a bit much, but it made him look menacing. Some of the guys couldn't help but think that even though the image wasn't moving, he was somehow emanating an intimidating aura. Yet despite all that, he had a gentle smile on his face, probably because it was Harry taking the picture. It really does take a son to smoothen the edges in such a man.

Then the girls – other than Hermione, although she was surprised as well, seeing Gabriel in regular attire - got a look at the uncle.

If Crowley was appealing in a rugged-aged pirate sort of way, then Gabriel was the one who rescued the damsels from their captives, swinging upon the loose chandelier.

 _Wow Gabriel, even in a picture, you manage to create future dates for yourself._

Tall, ravishing, and a dirty blond – the holy trifecta for pre-pubescent girls. The fact that he somehow managed to convey his trickster personality through the picture with that smile didn't help.

It took the likes of Susan – and Justin and Ernest (14), apparently - to note what wasn't being shown. Gabriel was putting up a smile, but his posture showed the truth. Gabriel was keeping his eyes on the surroundings, taking everything in, determine the dangers. If they could see past the bulges in his clothes, they knew they would find a weapon of one kind or another.

"Is he a magic-user too?" Padma finally asked with all the self-control she had left when returning the picture to Harry.

"Oh yeah, he is up there in power. He prefers the magic of art. He tends to keep his distance from the action, though – he is more for damage control and infiltration. An expert in what wizards call Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as memory manipulation and extraction. Doesn't mean he can't fight – he just fights dirty."

 _That's an understatement._

"Wait, if he taught you doesn't that mean…"

"Luckily for everyone here, I have no aptitude for such things, so don't go thinking I am reading your minds."

Sighs of relief escaped everyone unconditionally.

"With your talents, you'd think that you could learn with effort," continued Hannah.

"I could, but I would like to leave the privacy of the mind as it is – I prefer Occlumency rather than anything else. Rather put all effort into one skill then three others that I find… distasteful"

Harry took a quick look at the clock before going, "Well, look at that. I am sorry, but I am afraid this conversation will have to continue another day – lucky for you, no?"

No one responded. They all just got a good look at the inner makings of what made Harry MacLeod, and they still knew nothing about him. The irony of this all is that while he terrified them to their cores, they still wanted to hear more.

"I have a few things I want to look up before class starts. There's a human/animal mind meld Inuit spell (15) I want to try, but I want to see if there is a Wizarding equivalent for it. "

"Why?" inquired Neville.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

* * *

 _November 13_ _th_ _, 2011 – Gringotts Bank after Harry teleported in during the night_

"You're serious Griphook."

"Afraid I am – this was placed in the vault that someone attempted to rob. You believe it was whatever was possessing Quirrell?"

"Well, why else would Dumbledore go through all the hassle of getting the bloody thing, placing it behind poorly constructed defenses, and then blab to the student body about it? It's like he was trying to catch whoever or whatever was wearing Quirrel as a meat suit."

The goblin nodded, "True, true. Do you plan to keep the stone?"

"It's tempting but… I think I have a plan to sow some chaos before returning it to its rightful owners. Besides, I want a few minutes with the Flames anyway – the stone is my way in. Tell me Griphook, the Minister's vote of no confidence will be called on the 24th, correct?"

"Yes. Do you have something in mind we goblins should be concerned about?"

"If all goes to plan, two birds with one red stone."

* * *

 _November 17_ _th_ _, 2011 – Longbottom Manor, night time_

Augusta was slowly walking through the manor with her wand at the ready. She was just about to got to sleep when Leafy – her longest serving house elf – appeared and told her worryingly, that there was someone in the study who wished to see her. When she pressed as to how said person arrived without being invited in, all that Leafy could say was that the magics allowed it.

As she glanced at the edge of the hall to see the light from the fireplace coming out the study, she flinched when a deep voice called, "Are you planning to stand there all night, Madam Longbottom?"

Realising that she has lost the element of surprise, her wand still ready, her dignity recovered, she walked into the study and froze.

There, on the couch in front of the fireplace, sat a man.

That's all she could determine.

For said man was wearing very concealing robe and most shocking of all, a mask made of some sort of dark metal.

Slowly approaching the opposite chair, she asked, "Who are you and how did you get into the manor."

"For the latter question, I was invited at one point in time, and the offer was never removed. As for the first question, you may call me Dumas (16). As for why I am here, I seek to make an equivalent exchange."

"Pardon?"

She watched as Dumas took out a _very_ familiar red stone from his robe and put it on the table in between them both, "A life for a life. Tell me Madam Longbottom – how badly do you want your son and daughter-in-law back?"

"How did you get that stone? Nicolas and Perenelle…"

"Are not aware that it is gone. While I suspect the person who I took it from is likely aware of its disappearance, he is the one who took it the from the Flames in the first place. He is safe until the year ends – what I do with the stone afterward matters not at this point."

"But the stone… you must know of its powers…"

"What currently concerns me more is how _you_ know about it at all. My information showed no possible crossroads for which the knowledge of alchemy or the appearance of the stone should have ever crossed your eyes. So tell me Madam Longbottom, how is it you know what you know?"

She sat in silence, her fist clenching.

"Ah, so the rumors are true. Well then, this makes our discussion much easier."

* * *

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 2011 - Romania_

"Look, Charlie, I am sorry for coming to you, but I have to talk to you."

"Bill, what could have possibly happened that caught your knickers in a twist."

"Remember the medallion you gave me a few years back on Christmas?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I was in Hogwarts recently and it… reacted."

"…."

"Charlie?"

"Sit your ass down and tell me everything Bill, as swear to holy Hel that no one catches wind of this. I need a magic oath now!"

"Charlie, what aren't you telling me?"

"Too much, big brother… too much…"

"But how do you know about…"

"That doesn't matter now. I need you to tell me everything that happened on the day you went to Hogwarts, and everything that proceeded before the amulet reacted. And I mean everything."

* * *

 **(1) Or as he is more famously known by his pen name – Lewis Carroll, or the guy who wrote "Alice in Wonderland."**

 **(2) Yeah, no way am I keeping Arithmancy as it was described in the books; a magical discipline that studies properties of numbers including predicting the future with numbers and numerology. By that standard, it just makes it fancy Divination for those who aren't seers and Hermione reportedly loved Arithmancy but hated Divination (two sides of the same coin by JKR standards).**

 **(3) I was going to use the Swedish word for 'strange,' but 'marvelous' sounded better**

 **(4) Polymath – a person of wide-ranging knowledge or learning (Da Vinci being a famous example)**

 **(5) A Chinese cryptid alleged to grow in southern China, this human-tree hybrid is said to produce smiling human heads for fruit. The seeds of the fruit are also supposed to resemble smiling faces. By some accounts, when the face fruit ripens, it is edible and has a sweet and sour taste. In earlier times, it is said the trees were plentiful and, in some instances, farmed. The landscape was said to be abuzz with the laughter of a thousand happy heads.**

 **(6) The Greek word for 'rogue,' 'knave,' 'imp,' 'goblin,' which supposedly became '** cabalus **' in Medieval Latin and 'kobold' in German (kobold being a German sprite).**

 **(7) See? A straightforward explanation as to why Pandora didn't die in a magical explosion in front of Luna: Harry's disappearance caused a butterfly effect. I should say right now that Luna will still be the same, just more adjusted as she still has a mother figure in her life and didn't see her die before her eyes.**

 **(8) You know why hunters only hunt for the weak and lame from a traveling pack? Because otherwise, the pack would retaliate and kill them if they get caught. Pack/herd mentality doesn't mean weak (most of the time) – it just means that the animals stick together for survival or as a family. Don't believe me? Hunting one moose – already dangerous. Trying to hunt a pack of moose – you better hope the survivors don't see you.** You want **to know a funny way to die? Stampede by sheep – google it, it has happened.**

 **(9) Polyglot - a person who knows and is able to use several languages.**

 **(10) I snuck in the fear turkey reference from Hellsing Abridged and damn it to hell if I can't sneak in some more.**

 **(11) Harry Dresden reference.**

 **(12) Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, for the 2003 series doesn't exist in my mind.**

 **(13) Social manipulation on Harry's part – everyone 'knows' Potter has a scar on his forehead, but he doesn't.**

 **(14) Both came from high standing families – one magical and one muggle – so it isn't out there for them to know how to spot bodyguards and the like.**

 **(15) Season 9, Episode 5 – Dog Dean Afternoon.**

 **(16) I gave you all the clues. If you get the reference, you get a cookie.**


	26. The Exchange

**So…I've been gone for over a year now… Better check the stats.**

 **Reviews: 639**

 **Followers: 2,209**

 **Favorites: 1,854**

 **Communites: 35**

 **Views: 357,808**

 **I got nothing to say to definitively justify why I didn't come back to this story in so long.**

 **I do have reasons which can be summed up to explain why my interest in this story dipped significantly.**

 **1\. I overpowered Harry Potter a bit too much early on without leaving any wiggle room for him to be caught off-guard or overpowered in turn later on.**

 **2\. Certain reveals and directions that the latest seasons of Supernatural commited went against the plans that I had in my mind for what I had planned later on, which pissed me off.**

 **3\. Research that I only really started doing a deep dive into too late began presenting timeline problems due to JKR admitted issues 'with math' when she made character ages without taking account of interactions between them. The less said about trying to figuring out politics, the better.  
**

 **4\. The latest reveals on Pottermore – as well as the 'Fantastic Beast' movie sequel – presented even MORE conflicting information which grinds my gears. I like sticking close to the source material and not create 'plausible' material for the respective universes. For example, blood quills were never a thing nor is there a definitive name for the head of Gringotts.**

 **5\. Sakurademonalchemist. To those who don't know, this guy has been around since 2005 and has mastered the art of pointing out stupid decisions/choices and plot holes in popular works of fiction. Especially in Hitman Reborn, Naruto, Supernatural, and Harry Potter. As one of my favorite writers, I have read these works, which unfortunately solidified my removal of rose-colored glasses to specific issues that I wanted to subvert.**

 **You may be wondering why I have returned with a new chapter then?**

 **On February 28, I took certain actions that resulted in me message-talking with another well-known author on the site, DaSalvatore. I was 'caught with my pants down' at a vulnerable moment, which caused me to rant to him about my issues and my inability to jump back into this story.**

 **By March 1, he has helped me resolve said issues, causing me to write this chapter.**

 **So I thank DaSalvatore for that.**

 **That doesn't mean I want to fully commit to this story again now knowing that I am more than willing to throw the conventional timeline and order of events out the window just for sake of clarity on my end.**

 **I have enough trouble as it is making character OC in actions while trying to present them accurately with my interpretation.**

 **As such, I would feel more comfortable taking a backseat to this story and allow someone else to take the reins as I advise and help them out from the side.**

 **That or get a co-author, something common now with my works.**

 **If anyone is interested in the task, here's a small overlap of events/timeline as I have presented in this story to help you at least figure out what I MIGHT have in store.**

 **Hogwarts Year 1 (2011 – 2012) [Quirrel] – Supernatural Season 6 (ends in June '12) [Fight for souls]**

 **Hogwarts Year 2 (2012 – 2013) [Basilisk] – Supernatural Season 7 (ends in May '13) [Leviathans]**

 **Hogwarts Year 3 (2013 – 2014) [Dementors] – Dean spends a year in Purgatory, Sam leaves hunting**

 **Hogwarts Year 4 (2014 – 2015) [Tournament] – Supernatural Season 8 (ends in May '15) [Angels & Other]**

 **Hogwarts Year 5 (2015 – 2016) [Umbridge] – Supernatural Season 9 (ends in June '16) [Metatron]**

 **Hogwarts Year 6 (2016 – 2017) [Half-Blood Prince] – Supernatural Season 10 (ends in June '17) [Mark of Cain** ** **& Other** ]**

 **Hogwarts Year 7 (2017 – 2018) [Voldemort] – Supernatural Season 11 (ending is ambiguous timewise due to the pacing of episodes and lack of time marks, but it occurs after March '18) [The Darkness]**

 **Small note though for the Supernatural franchise. The writer's department at Supernatural decided to continue their tradition of dating things for the estimated release time of the episode, ignoring the fact that Dean lived with Lisa for a whole year between the end of Season 5 and the beginning of Season 6. As such, Season 6 should, therefore, start in 2011, not 2010. In Season 8 there is another one-year time jump. So, if you want the dates to be in chronological time, you will have to add another year to all dates, which I have already done so.**

 **Hence why dates have to be shifted around when I planned out the events, added 20 years to HP timeline, and why the progression of SP events will feel off.**

 **Now to the story itself. Sorry if it feels rushed.**

* * *

 _November 18, 2011 - Night_

Magic wielders are not the brightest of people.

Wait, that's not entirely right.

The magic users of England – yeah, that works much better – are not the brightest of people.

Even those without inherent magics – Muggle or otherwise – show more respect to it then them.

Ireland and Scotland have the Old Ways, so they had lessons about screwing with magic smacked into their heads so they wouldn't get tricked by the Fey Folk or accidentally walk into a Lost Path.

They literally had the stupid smacked out of them by their moms and grandmoms.

England, not so much.

Smarter then they give themselves credit for, justifiably so in certain situations, especially by the select few who keep things running in England.

The shepherds herding the sheep.

But on the whole, the wizards and witches – if asked by a disgruntled Muggle-born or Half-Blood – sacrifice common sense and logic for the ability to wield magic.

The more 'pure' the blood, the more evident it is.

Not to say that there aren't a few rare exceptions family-wise or a black sheep once in a while but on the whole? Were it not for the foresight of their ancestors and the will of Magic; they would have either been killed off or discovered long ago, whichever came first.

Thank Magic for the modified Fidelius Charm that keeps them and anyone aware of that brand of magic hidden.

However, despite this, they still had some little smidgen of survival instincts hardwired into their thick skulls. For all the power they held in their 'little sticks' and in wandless magic for the dedicated few, any profession dealing with magical creatures – especially dragons – was almost always understaffed.

Same can be said for the Department of Mysteries and anyone who played magical sports professionally.

Maybe it was the illogical mindset of preserving bloodlines or some bizarre other reason that has become prevalent among them since WWII, but in any regard, most folks that are raised in Britain had an unnatural fear of death.

Which unfortunately translated to fear of injuries, hence the understaffing.

One other thing that all magical folk justifiably feared in the isles were the Dementors.

Magic could do many things – keep the user healthy, extend life, function on less sleep – but the one thing magic couldn't do was protect the body. Oh sure, healing faster and potions were one thing, but preserve the body from magic itself? There's a reason why 'Protego' is a spell and not a natural magical resistance against Stunners.

There is a reason why anything with blood was so closely monitored and the Unforgivables received their titles, but that is a story for another time.

It was why the Dementors were so feared for their ability to 'drain' the soul.

No one recalls how they came to be – or they did and kept it hidden – but in any case, SOMEHOW, the Ministry of old managed to barter a deal with the horde in England to hold them to one island castle and 'feast' on the people given to them.

They didn't need to do this, but again, wizards and witches were not the most logical of people. If they were, they would have used the Truth Serum much more often in trials and have made magical lawyers and many other professions obsolete. However, one pureblood did something stupid, someone was paid off, the snowball became more prominent as it rolled down the hill, and eventually, the potion was restricted to the strictest of situations – to purebloods; half-bloods and muggleborn were on their own.

[We can argue the validity and usefulness of Truth Serums, but no one wants to be stuck here all day, so moving on.]

Unfortunately, since the latter two categories had enough difficulties as it is in England, getting in trouble with Aurors was not on their priorities.

As you can imagine, purebloods were usually the miscreants arrested, they paid their fancy and expensive lawyers, and the cycle continued.

The lawyers – and other professions like barristers and auditors – managed to get back at them by overcharging them.

What? You think purebloods decide to waste their time after completing their education to become lawyers? Payback is a bitch.

But that's irrelevant to the main point…

The island castle used to serve as the fortress of one Herpo the Foul and his army before he was eventually defeated. His castle was left alone until appropriated as the prison known as Azkaban centuries prior.

It was because of the 'depressing aura' that the Dementors created en masse that even the most harden of Aurors avoided shifts at the prison like the plague. Those that could handle it or took extra shifts willingly were paid extra, received more vacation days, were allowed to request working more desk shifts, and had mandatory meetings with a mind healer.

So to see two hooded Unspeakables sail to the island in the darkest of nights was NOT something commonly seen.

The 'eggheads' – a term that flew by those raised in the Wizarding World - rarely left the lower levels of the Ministry, usually serving as researchers and hoarders of knowledge as well as a 'last resort' option in times of duress

An option not used during Voldemort's war for reasons that won't be spoken about… for now.

"Are you sure we should be doing this, Augusta?" asked the taller male figure.

"I am sorry, but he has the damn stone, Algie," spoke the Longbottom Matriarch in a harsh whisper. "Years I've been trying to find a way to save my son… years I've seen Neville break down in tears at home after visiting his mother… his magic, unable to save them, turning against him…"

"Augusta, how many times must I remind you? The boy was dangerously close to inwardly collapsing. Yes, I left the cushioning charm just in case, but I couldn't risk him going the Big O."

Augusta wiped a tear from her eye, unwillingly shed as the memories flared at the forefront of her mind. "I know, Algie, I know. I can only thank Hecate that Neville seems to have repressed the memories after that."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," corrected Algie as he glared at the rapidly approaching island coast.

Augusta looked at her brother-in-law in shock. "Algie, you didn't…"

"Trevor is more than just a regular toad and let's keep it at that."

"Oh, I feared the worst," she breathed in relief as she stepped off the boat.

"What? That I would invade his mind, even if I had the right? I am many things Augusta, but I like to think that I am more than some caricature created to represent my profession."

"I don't doubt that Algie," stated Augusta as she adjusted her hood, allowing the spell work to kick in and distort her voice and face to be unrecognizable and memory-retention proof. "But still, must be one hell of a toad."

"It was something one of Newt's MANY kids found in the Amazon. I swear, you would think Molly Weasley was trying to beat his record for most kids," chuckled the male Unspeakable as he mirrored her actions.

"You know as well as I do that it was the clashing of both Prewett and Weasley family magics against each other until Ginny was born. Newt and Porpentina were…"

Algie smirked as he raised a brow looking at her, the charm on the robes not affecting the wearers, "Two people who lived way too close to the edge of life and death that had to constantly reassure themselves that life was wonderful, usually in the bedroom with bed-related escapades?"

Augusta stared at him before deadpanning, "You are lucky that we have to be jovial to keep our spirits up or else I would have wiped your mouth clean with soup, Algie."

"Oh please," chuckled Algie as he presented the paperwork to the guards. "If purebloods had the same healthy sexual mindset like Porpentina, we wouldn't be having so much trouble repopulating."

"Blame the war: people overreacted and insulated themselves when Grindelwald's forces came in from the continent. And those that marry outside the main lines usually stay in Europe because they bother staying up to date with the rest of the world," Augusta muttered.

Despite the image she presented to the Wizengamot's members, Augusta was up to date with both technological and magical advancements outside of England. She had to be since she had resorted to muggle methods of curing her son and wife. She wasn't the only one – she was part of a somewhat secretive minority of purebloods and the like – who knew the benefits and advantages set by the non-magical in the less few decades.

Suffice to say, she was rather fond of watching her dramas and Neville was informed not to mention his gaming systems while at Hogwarts.

Violent games were somewhat useful in helping Neville deal with his pent up aggression of being helpless in a somewhat safe and harmless way.

Didn't help when he discovered the 'Call of Duty' franchise, but thankfully, she had the parental controls.

"Hear, hear," Algie muttered, rubbing his hands to maintain his warmth as they traversed the prison to the maximum security wing.

Yes, Azkaban may have been Englands only prison, but Dementors didn't traverse ALL the levels, just the ones with the worst of the worst. The ambient aura of theirs was enough for the less heinous offenders to get the point across.

"Still," he continued as his breath materialized from the cold. "How did this… Dumas… get his hands on the stone?"

"Don't know, don't care," commanded Augusta as she walked up one of the many staircases. "I've been trying to get my hands on it for even a day from Flamel for years just to see if it could do anything…"

"Augusta… Nicholas knows the stone better than anyone, do you really think that he didn't know…"

"I KNOW that the stone could have saved them. You forget I was once head of your department as well, and I've read some of the early papers of his. They are one of the many secrets you were sworn to protect when I gave you my position."

Algie sighed in resignation. "Still… to think the stone had such an application…"

"Alchemy can be interpreted and used in many ways, for it is the ultimate medium in any exchange. Just be thankful Nicholas swore never to misuse it again."

"Too bad the vow must have translated to never use it to save a life at too great a cost."

"Don't start Algie, we both have blood on our hands from the war and the choices we made. Nicholas just has more on his and yet he managed to keep his morals… unlike you," insinuated Augusta as they slowly approached the wing.

"Hard decisions had to be made. I would rather have the taint on my soul rather than those that work for me. Regardless of how I am perceived, I do everything for the better of others," commanded Algie emotionally and with conviction despite his stoic face.

"And that alone is why I haven't blasted you off the tapestry when I saw you dangling Neville by his foot," stared Augusta at Algie with her eyes narrowed.

"Oh come on now Augusta," smirked Algie. "Admit it, his face afterward when he realized he wasn't a squib was worth it."

Augusta frowned as they finally stopped at their first prison. "Yes, it was worth it."

That comment was filled with more meaning then she anticipated as she looked down at the dirty and demented figure of one Bellatrix Lestrange née Black.

* * *

 _November 19, 2011 - Night_

All the monitoring wards and charms were currently turned off within the Janus Thickey Ward.

Non-essential staff and personnel were forced off the floor by order of the Unspeakables, with the few that had to remain told in no uncertain terms no to cross a certain threshhold or risk the full brunt of the law.

When they spoke, people listened, regardless of official paperwork provided.

What was about to transpire wasn't going to be mentioned by anyone any time soon other then in hushed whispers.

As such it was, that two extra Unspeakables – close friends of Algie who could keep their mouths shut – were currently holding down the shackled and bound Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange.

The shackles were to prevent their magic from working.

The binds were just that: very well tied ropes. And they said that knowing how to tie knots didn't amount to anything.

On the other end stood Algie and Augusta as they prepared the two beds and scanned the patients.

"You sure he will be here?" Algie said as he put away his wand in the holster. "We did set up a rather large number of monitoring and anti-scrying wards…"

"He broke into the manor without the ancient wards going off. I highly suspect that your wand work will be good enough to stop him."

A ruffling of wings was heard, prompting everyone to slide their wands out…

"You would be surprised," stated the masked figure as he approached from the shadows, looking the same as the day Augusta spoke with him.

"And why is that, Dumas?" Augusta asked, never lowering her wand as the Lestrange Trio struggled.

"Old wards are rather set in their ways. Someone of my skills simply has to watch them long enough to spot the patterns in the spell work to spot a hole – momentary as it – to slip through," the figure stated as he approached the brothers and observed them.

"Magic doesn't work like that," spoke one of the two called-in Unspeakables. He was new.

"By your rather limited understanding it may not," Dumas looked up, his voice not condescending but more like that of a teacher, dispensing a fact or knowledge. "If magic is all about belief and comprehension, then a different view of said belief is all that is needed. Learning a different language helps – something about processing multiple languages rewrites your ability to perceive wards and the like. Could be related to languages working on phonetic and grammatical structures translating as to how a regional magical system and its applications develop over time, different from other systems. It's why teams of curse-breakers are always in groups of people with different dominant tongues."

"Really?" spoke the second other Unspeakable. He was not as new. "You would think they would cover that in Hogwarts with language courses."

"They did," spoke Algie, Augusta, and Dumas in unison, surprising the trio.

"In any case, we didn't come here to discuss the failing standards caused by a Gandalf look alike," muttered Dumas to the snickers of the older duo. "We are here because of _this_."

Everyone eyes – sans Augusta – bulged in fascination as Dumas presented the Philosopher's Stone from his robes.

It is one thing to read about the stone, but to see it, to feel the magic coming off of it…

Even its red sheen sparkled oh so beautifully even in the darkened room, the light seemingly reflecting off darkness itself to be consumed by the stone again.

"Bring the three closer," commanded Dumas as the trio of panicked prisoners were dragged closer to the patient beds into three prepared entrapment ward-circles on the floor.

"Those will keep them in?"

Algie nodded, "Yes. We can enter and leave, but they can't without one of us dragging them out."

"Good, good," stated Dumas as he faced the Longbottom couple. "They been here ten years correct?"

"Yes," stated Augusta.

"So twenty years between all three, that should put them right up to death's door after Azkaban. They weren't lucky like Sirius was," Dumas spoke to himself as he inspected the two men.

He paused when he inspected Bella however.

The Unspeakable's felt that something bother the masked figure as he tilted his head.

It was only confirmed when he waived his hand in front of her, a wave of magic basing over her, revealing a myriad of colors and shapes but a splattering of black pomegranate seeds in it, before he spoke enraged.

"Oh Cygnus, I hope there is a special place in Hell for you…"

Augusta stepped back on reflex from the sheer venom the dripped from Dumas' mouth. "Is something wrong?"

"Unfortunately. We shall still proceed with the deal, but we may have to rework the minor details. She has made things… complicated."

"And why has she made things complicated?" Algie asked in equal fury, his hatred for the three Lestranges eclipsing his curiosity at the situation.

"Because I am sensing a contract on her. Specifically, I am sensing a Persephone Contract linked to Rodolphus."

Silence.

Augusta gaped her mouth open, "No… no, no, no… don't do this…"

Algie looked at the conflicted Augusta, before turning to Dumas. "How old is it?"

"Old enough to convince me that she hasn't been in control of her mind for a long, LONG time. Based on the age, I don't think she hasn't been in the front seat even before she finished Hogwarts."

"Hades damn it," swore Algie. "So she…"

"Knows everything that she was forced to do when ordered by Rodolphus and anyone he gave permission to command her? Yes, most definitely. Congratulation Augusta, the Lestranges screwed over not just your son and daughter-in-law, but the one holding the weapon as well. Always wondered how she had such mastery over the Crucio – hard to pull such pain inducement even without any distractions and full commitment. But a direct order from her master to induce as much pain as possible? That would do it."

Dumas waved his hand, causing Bella to fall asleep before turning to brothers. "Just for that, you two get something special."

Dumas finger he approached the two, "You better start writing up the paperwork. The brothers aren't leaving this place alive."

"What shall we write for the coroner's report?" asked one of the extras as Harry branded the two with an odd mark that no one recognized using his fingers.

"Usual causes: overexposure to Dementors, stress-induced aging, horror-stricken frozen faces when they recieved the Kiss, etc. Like I said, the usual."

The extra nodded, "Just checking. And Bellatrix?"

Harry looked at her as he placed the stone on a small table in between, "That is trickier. We may have to call in her sisters and Lord Black."

Dumas turned to Augusta as she finally regained her composure. "I know this will be hard for you, but even you must understand that she wasn't in control. Her opinions on Muggleborn? Debatable. But her actions? They weren't hers."

"I do. I can't overlook all the pain that I've compartmentalized over the years, but I do."

Dumas nodded. "The recovery will be long, Augusta. You may never forgive her actions, but you will have to let go of the feelings you have associated with her. If it helps, think of the person who hurt you being Bellatrix Lestrange and Bellatrix Black being an unfortunate victim in this fiasco."

She sighed, "As long as you do as promised, I will do what I must and explain everything to her family. I will create… a plausible explanation."

"Good. Then we can begin…"

Lights from the magic-fueled crystal simmered as Dumas raised his hands above the stone, its luster suddenly returning as it glowed brighter. Something tangible stirred within it, coming closer and closer to the smooth ruby surface.

Augusta felt it, Algie felt it, the brothers felt it… there was powerful Magic being used.

"Καλώ την ανταμοιβή της Νέμεσις, οι όρκοι του Χόρκο, την αδικία της Αδικής, και τη δικαιοσύνη του Δικαίου. Αφήστε τους αδίκως τιμωμένους να απελευθερωθούν από τα δεινά τους και αφήστε τους εκείνους που πέταξαν την πέτρα να πάρουν τον πόνο τους διπλωμένο. Ας έρθουν οι Moirai και να υφαίνουν νέα θέματα. Αφήστε όσους υπέφεραν να ξαναβρούν και χάθηκαν και προστέθηκαν στους ποινικούς. Αφήστε να αφαιρεθεί και να πιτσιλιστεί ο κατηγορούμενος η βαφή που χρωματίζει την ταπετσαρία τους. Αφήστε την πέτρα να αποφασίσει και να επιβάλει. Ας είναι μια ουδέτερη και δίκαιη δύναμη. Αφήστε τη μαγεία να είναι ο δικαστής, η κριτική επιτροπή και ο εκτελεστής."

As the chant finished, the glow solidified into a bright fluorescent red that seemed to scan the room.

"Was the Greek necessary?" Algie asked.

Dumas shrugged. "Seemed appropriate. The contract is Greek in origin, the language is older then Latin, the stone has ties to the region… I like to think of it more as a personal touch than anything. Besides, this is the sort of ritual where verbalization makes it stronger. I could have done it without, but you know how finicky magical constructs and artifacts are when only intentions are used."

Dumas faced Augusta. "Once I do this, there is no going back. You WILL have to handle the fallout and explain this to Lord Black."

"Small mercy – it's the sisters I am afraid of," Muttered Augusta.

"Because of who they were in Hogwarts or because of what Bellatrix did?"

"Yes."

Dumas looked confused at Augusta as she sighed. "The three sisters used to be called the Gorgons by a Ravenclaw back in the day. Their retributions to those who wronged them were… legendary."

"Huh… How prophetic."

"Pardon? What does that have to do…" started one of the extra Unspeakable's before Dumas interrupted.

"Stheno was most independent and ferocious of the three, as reflected by Andromeda leaving her family and proving her power against the Death Eaters during the war. Euryale was beautiful, but she also represented hidden dangers, as evident by how Narcissa manipulated people with her whispers – like a snake striking from the shadows. Medusa was both the weakest and strongest, without immortality but with the greatest power at her disposal but oh so easy to trick and get around. Sound familiar?"

Algie couldn't help but swear and get a 'Language!' from Augusta.

"Regardless, Lord Black and his sisters shouldn't be a problem. The public? Well… if Cygnus bothered to go with the Persephone Contract, odds are it's in the Black or the Lestrange Vault. Considering what's about to happen here, Bellatrix should be able to get access to the Lestrange Vault once she becomes a widow."

Rodolphus started shaking and trying to escape even harder than before.

"I am more concerned about HOW Cygnus got away with it. Doesn't this contract require the Lord to sign - I mean – give away the perspective 'wife'?" Dumas asked as he was drawing up runic and alchemic circles between all five subjects.

"There was a small window of opportunity when Cygnus Black the Second passed back in the early '90s. His passage was so surprising that no will was left, meaning that by House Charter, Sirius Black the Third became Heir Apparent. Unfortunately, since he was too young to do so, Cyrus must have managed to wrangle the reins, STANDING in for Lord Black which gave him leverage to do so. Sirius, believing his mother's rants about disowning him, probably didn't question it as he was living with the Potter's at this time. Probably why Cygnus never displayed the Lord Ring and why Bellatrix took the Lestrange name: Cygnus may have fooled the public – and even Sirius – of being Lord Black, but he couldn't fool Magic."

Dumas chuckled as he was finishing the circle around the still glowing stone. "I am guessing that Andromeda was supposed to be Rodolphus sacrifice, but she managed to escape the net as it were?"

"Big scandal that was," Augusta smiled fondly. "Sirius always did like her best."

"Would explain why they needed the contract. Bellatrix was even more stubborn then Andromeda on a good day," Algie added as an afterthought.

"Done," Dumas stated with cheer. "Everyone, please step back, this will be messy. Also, you two -" Dumas pointed at the extra Unspeakables, "- please power up the Silencing Wards around the twins. This **will** be loud."

Both nodded and did so as Dumas placed his hands on the stone. "All right then – Ανταλλαγή!"

On cue, Magic awoke, energy coalescing in the air, humming and singing, surprising everyone with the visage of solid, pure magic in the air.

Purple lightning flowed down the circles and runes, connecting the Longbottoms to the matrix, the shock causing the two to flinch.

Blue lightning connected to Bellatrix, the reaction to which was more of a surprise since she didn't flinch and the Magic almost seemed to treat her more gently then it did Longbottoms. Like a vet treating a wounded dog.

The twins weren't so lucky. Red lightning shot out of the stone, connecting violently to Rabastan and Rodolphus, piercing their skin. Blood poured from the holes in their arms, legs, chest, and a few tendrils that connected to their skulls. The holes, however, were so small that you would think they were sweating blood instead of bleeding.

Thankfully, the wards held up, since, despite the thrashing and obvious pain the two were in, there was only silence.

And by their very eyes, something began to flow from the two into Bella, Frank, and Alice, while something was returned from the Longbottoms and less so from Bellatrix.

The results… were not pleasant to watch.

The Lestrange Twins began to vibrate horrifyingly, atrophying at the seems, becoming decrepit and withered, aging by decades in seconds rather than years. Teeth yellowed, nails grew, hair lengthened and paled. Their youthful eyes lost their luster, and their appearance screams became silent but continuing, as insanity seemed to seep into them. It was as if madness had taken hold of them, the twitching spasms of pain extenuating some deranged sickness the two were now victims of.

On the other hand, however, was the improvement of the Longbottoms. While the Lestranges aged, Frank and Alice recovered. Wrinkles disappeared, color returned to their skin and hair, muscles that shrank from underuse suddenly recovered their vigor, damages accumulated from being bedbound slowly undid themselves.

Bellatrix's changes were less noticeable. Her hair straightened, her posture became more relaxed… the tell-tale physical marks of her famous madness seemed to smoothen out, seemingly washing away a few years off her as well. Not as much as Frank and Alice, but noticeably enough to no longer suspect she ever spend time in Azkaban but rather aged gracefully.

What Sirius recovered after months of treatment Bellatrix was recovering in moments.

Then, before anyone realized it, the lightning died down, retracted into the stone, and the lights began to dim as the pulsing slowly started to weaken as well, the task completed.

The Unspeakables stood frozen, silent, still trying to comprehend what has occurred as Dumas waved his hand, erasing the chalk drawings of the alchemic circles from the tiled floors.

Finally, one of the Unspeakables recovered and approached the now motionless brothers, waving his wand over them. "They are dead."

"Obviously," deadpanned Dumas. "Ageing rapidly by about a decade each will do that to people."

"THEY ONLY AGE A DECADE?" the other Unspeakable asked in audible shock.

"Well… I did also add in the physical torture the Longbottoms experienced via the Cruciatus Curse as well as all the mental and emotional torture Bellatrix experienced under the Persephone Contract AS WELL as her incarceration in Azkaban. So… yeah… the combined stress made it much worse…" explained Dumas.

Augusta and Algie approached Frank and Alice, the couple looking as fit and healthy as they did days before they were admitted to St. Mungo's, if a little deflated from muscle underuse.

Tears gathered in Augusta's eyes as she gently touched her son's cheek. "Will they… will they rememeber…?"

"I am sorry Augusta. Equivalent exchange can only do so much. I only removed the physical evidence. As fractured as their memories will be, they will still have a decade's worth of memories of being locked in their bodies and minds… as well as the MEMORY of the torture but not the pain. The emotions… they are still imprinted in them though. I would recommend they built walls around that night with Occlumency when they get the chance. Thick, impenetrable ones – it's going to be like a scab with them: the more they scratch and dig at it, the more the memory and experiences will leak through. And we don't want that do we?"

Dumas looked at Bellatrix. "Same for her. I could only do so much… she will need her sisters to support 24/7 for the foreseeable future. That and a VERY dedicated elf who can take of or an answer when concerning their master's safety."

Augusta nodded, "It will be done. And the presses – when they catch wind of it?"

"Tell them you found a medicine man or something of the kind who made you swear a magical oath not reveal his location and methods," shrugged Dumas, this not being his concern.

"They will claim Dark Magic; they will find a way to use this against me," Augusta argued.

"Then get a lawyer you trust with prepared questions that you can get around answering with Veritaserum. That or make an oath about the type of magic used rather than the methods – the stone is technically Grey Magic. That or swear to Magic itself with an oath, doubt THAT can be argued against."

Augusta was going to keep pushing, but Dumas raised his hand. "Look, Augusta, I am many things, but a politician I am not. You are going to get the Blacks involved with Bellatrix here, and that should give you more than enough power in your corner to figure something out. Now, if you don't mind, I have other things that must be attended to."

Before anyone got a chance to stop Dumas from entering the shadows, he disappeared, without the distinct popping of Apparition being heard.

Only the beating of wings.

* * *

 _November 23, 2011 - Night_

Grimmauld Place was many things to Sirius Black.

A place where his innocence died a slow death by lashes.

A place where his mother tortured him for not following her perceived views for the family.

A place where he spend his nights talking with Lord Black, trying desperately to understand why he was different.

He wanted to change that, and he was. He wanted to wash away the past darkness from this house, to make it a new, a phoenix reborn.

He removed the wall with his mother picture on it, putting it away in the attic for Kreacher to tend to. That thankfully got the grouchy bugger off his back – at least for now.

He was slowly redoing the paintwork and updating the furniture motifs. Well, Narcissa was, but he was paying for it. Interior design was not his forte

He was, however, remodeling the infrastructure, bringing it up to date and confounding the technicians who installed the wall plugs and wiring.

Narcissa almost skinned him alive for that until Remus explained the process of how the wires and rooms are shielded against the interference effect caused by magic.

She rescinded her desire to maim Sirius for almost causing the house magics from failing after she accidentally came across the Food Network one day.

She and her favorite elf Dobby watched it religious, both rather fond of cooking together when Lucius wasn't around.

[Oh, the irony of ironies.]

In any case, Sirius was making Grimmauld Place into something different.

What he didn't want it to be was a place where arguments occured and festered, something that was VERY close to happening with the tale Augusta and Algie Longbottom had just finished telling.

Sirius suspected that the meeting was important, so he called in his 'advisors' – his family – to ground him and make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

He was barely out of Azkaban as it was and was driven by his heart even before he was incarcerated. This was not a time to fly off the wand.

So it was such that Ted, Andromeda, Remus, and Narcissa also heard the Longbottoms confession of what occurred a few days ago.

Sirius breathed in and out, counting in his head like Lily taught him long ago. "So… just so that I am correct on my assumptions…"

"First, the Lestrange Family is no more?" Sirius stated as he gave Ted a look.

"Well, a genealogical lookup will have to be made to be certain, but yes, as far as we are aware, the main branch of the family is dead. Whether or not it will pass on to some branch member is uncertain, seeing as they are dead ends." Ted rubbed his chin in thought.

"They are," Narcissa added. "Those ends have spinsters and members too old to sire another heir."

"Unless a bastard or a squib descendent Muggle-born pops up from one of the twins," Remus added as an afterthought to everyone's surprise.

Sirius considered this for a moment before nodding, "Not impossible. Magic finds a way to maintain balance. In any case. Second, my cousin Bellatrix has been under a Persephone Contract of all damn things since before the war even started. I can accept that and forgive her for actions outside her control, my word is enough for what if verified by magic. But why a trial?"

"You concern is justified, Lord Black," – Sirius twitched at the name – "but words carry little weight when the opposition can easily tilt public opinion to the side with the _Daily Prophet_ regardless of the obvious. To them, sensationalism is one thing, but money is another."

Andromeda scoffed. "Please, no one's image, regardless of how the trial plays out, will come out untarnished with or without the contract as proof. The Light Side comes off as even more incompetent for not testing her for obscure forms of mind control during the trial. The Dark Side comes off as even more despicable for having to resort to such things to create their favorite attack dog of the war's propaganda machine. Hecate damn it, either way, this is going to be a mud fight where no one comes clean."

"Except the Blacks of course," Sirius smirked, his eye glinting with trickster pride.

"Of sweet Circe Sirius, this is not the time for…." Remus started to interrupt before Sirius pressed on.

"As far as the CURRENT Lord Black is concerned, the marriage of Bellatrix Black was officiated when he was not present and under false pretences, as while he was Heir Apparent, he DID NOT OFFICIALLY name a temporary proxy to be in charge. As such, by the bylaws, the House of Lestrange with haste and forethought committed Line Theft by taking Bellatrix as one of their own, even though they had the permission of her father."

Ted Black – he loved saying that – thought about this ffrom that perspective before giggling. "Christ, we play this right… Damn it, this can work. I mean, sure, the public knows the marriage was made by Cygnus, but officially, he didn't have approval. It will press all the right buttons for the Pure-Blood, 'abusing' one their longest surviving traditions. It will piss off the masses but still… Recompensation?"

"Let's leave that avenue closed for now. We will need Bella's widow status to check the Lestrange Family Tree. Where was I… Oh yes. Thirdly, Frank and Alice have recovered and are better then ever – 30 going on 20 as it were."

Algie smirked, "While crude, you are correct. While a trial isn't an option we want it to go, a Wizengamot session will be brought up. Their case has been unique, they will demand…."

Sirius glare intensified. "They will demand nothing."

Remus looked at everyone's confusion and asked the question. "Sirius, a magical oath and truth serum can only go so far to determine what alignment of magic…."

"Magic is not Light nor Dark, but simply the will and power of the user turned into intention. I may be paraphrasing but it is what my predecessor like to say. It also the mentality I favor regarding magic, one currently incompatible with the current laws and amendments passed by the Wizengamot while I was wrongfully incarcerated."

Narcissa – having heard her ex-husband's rants on the issue – was first to get with Ted following a second behind. "They don't specify what Dark Magic is in the language, they just expect everyone to know what it is."

Sirius nodded. "The foundation behind Black and White Magic is, in the simplest of terms, very specific: one adds, one removes. Charms are mostly Light because they add something, while anything used in DADA is Black since it takes away. Well, maybe not that cut and dry for Black but you get the point," Sirius said as he waved his hand as he ended his tangent.

"Light and Dark, however, have been twisted and mangled to the point where most don't even remember what they used to mean, hence why the legislature is so poorly worded. For Hecate sake, Druids used to practise Black and Dark Magic since they needed sacrifices to make their magic work. If they bring up the issue of what was used to restore Frank's and Alice's sanity, they will have to admit – on record – what constitutes as Light, Dark, Black, and White magic. And that is a dog and pony show that certain parties don't want the public thinking about too much."

Everyone present just stared at Sirius like he grew a second head, which Remus would admit happened once during a potion cockup. "What?"

"Sirius, don't take this the wrong way, but when did you become so efficient with the rules?" Remus asked with a hint of worry.

Sirius shrugged. "Manipulating the laws to your advantage is not dissimilar from bending the rules in our favor when we played pranks. Which frankly is how I view this whole endeavor: as a giant prank. Of course, they will see it as a power move in some bizarre chess game and try to figure out my next plan, when in reality…"

"Ther isn't one" Andromeda smirked and giggled. "No wonder you were the heir over Walburga's insistence: it wasn't that you were too stubborn to manipulate, you simply didn't think like everyone else when playing the game."

Sirius smiled as he presented his arms as a showman would. "Money, Power, Fame – those three things will get you far in politics. But if you play by different rules while knowing your opponents, then how can they know your next move as long as they stick to theirs?"

Sirius looked up, thinking. "Toujours Pur. French for 'always pure.' I always wondered – why would an English family use a French saying? Maybe it was something brought in later because it sounded fancy, maybe not, it matters little. The message always bothered me – pure of what? Mother always claimed it was blood, but I questioned it. Pure of thought? Pure of actions? Pure of will? Pure of belief? Pure magic? Then there's the inherent association of the word – 'pure.' It means untainted, unmixed, clean, moral, righteous, honorable. The motto was a contradiction to the very image the House of Black presented, especially with the Family Magic leaning heavily into the Black domain because of our Druidic ancestors. I spend longer then I would like to admit pondering that phrase, until I finally, I asked the Lord what it meant."

Andromeda and Narcissa, while having own opinions, wanted to hear this. "What did he say?"

"I will never forget the look he gave me, the drink in his chalice, the smell of the fire burning, as he leaned to me and asked me a question in turn: how can a family that calls itself Black consider itself Pure? I like to think the answer I gave him that day is what made him decide that I was worthy of inheriting the Lordship."

"What was the answer?" Remus asked.

Sirius chuckled. "Sorry, that is something I take to my grave. Only my successor will know."

Augusta smirked as well. "My beloved had something similar as a test for Frank, but it wasn't a motto. Algie?"

The man shook his head, "Sorry, but I was never offered it. The test isn't given unless the Lord is sure that applicant can handle it – it is only offered the one time. The only exception to the ritual is if the Lord dies before he can test the named successor in person."

Ted caught that phrase, "In person? What, is there a way to test while dead?"

"A story for another time, Ted," Sirius quickly interrupted, his Black Lord Ring glinting in the light. "For now, we have to plan ahead for the headaches that will come. What is the current location of Frank, Alice, and Bellatrix?"

"Frank and Alice are currently in the manor being taken care of by the elves. No one sans the head of the ward in St. Mungo is aware of any of this, and he is bound by secrecy oaths. The Unspeakables who were there with us have been Obliviated of the important information but not the event itself. Dumas… well, I think we can avoid mentioning him. They are currently catching up to current events and doing their best to put everything in their heads in order."

"And Bellatrix?"

Augusta pit her lip. "She is also there. Frank and Alice are aware of this, and they are not happy about it, but they know what the contract is capable of so there is not much they can do morally. I would, however, like to bring her here if you don't mind."

Narcissa stared in worry, "Is Bella still…?"

"As far as we can tell, she is of sound body but her mind…." Algie put his head in his arms and parted his hair in worry. "No one truly knows what things she had committed while under the thrall of the Death Eaters. We ever only caught her public appearances, when she swung around spells and was the embodiment of destruction and pain on the battlefield. We never saw her actions or behavior outside of it. Who knows what things she did – or were done to her – while out of public sight under the depravity of the departed Lestranges? The twins were sick enough to consider each other their lovers. They could have easily" - he stared at Bellatrix's sisters in pain – "passed her around as… stress relief… for others."

Andromeda, unable to control herself despite her demeanor, lost control of her magic as it caused a stool nearby to shoot forcefully at a wall, causing everyone to flinch.

Narcissa was very close to doing something similar based on the fact that the table in between them was slightly smoking. It was only the gentle rubbing of her back by Remus that allowed her to maintain control.

"Do you have anyone – anyone at all – skilled enough in Legilimency to helps us?" Narcissa asked, her voice strained with mixed emotions.

Augusta and Algie looked at each other. "You won't like our answer."

"Augusta, anything is an option at this point – my cousin is locked in her mind. Whoever you have in mind can't possibly be worse than the alternative."

Algie sighed in resignation. "As you know, my… department… keep an eye out for recruits. Some for the inherent or expected level of magical power, some for bloodline gifts and the like, other times for odd talents or magical specialization. There are rigorous requirements to meet, extensive character and background testing to get in, and a host of other things to learn on the job just to survive and advance. In any case, our watchers find future members in all of Europe's magical institutions: we rarely miss someone of worth unless they were homeschooled or attended an institution outside of the continent. Muggleborns are the rare exception, but they usually prove themselves worthy in the few short years they are in school to warrant their admission into the department. But once in a while, we catch them rather early on for one reason or another. Be it by coincidence or merry, a former associate monitored two children who later on joined our department. This associate of Augusta – may she rest in peace – was no longer part of the department as, due to an accident, her access to magic was severely crippled. She kept in touch with Augusta when she was the head, which allowed us to keep watch on the two recruits. One went into the department for her gift in Charms as well as her unusual ability in uncovering 'forgotten' magics."

Sirius and Remus's eyes bulged in shock, having quickly realized what Algie was implying.

"The other, however, despite his talent in Potions, went on to become our expert in Legilimency and Occlumency. He also become our spy for both sides during the war. To this day he remains as an outside agent, keeping a close eye on future recruits in Hogwarts alongside two others."

Sirius was first to voice what he thought while everyone else caught on. "How the BLOODY hell is he of all people an Unspeakable?"

"Simple – he doesn't know he is an Unspeakable. As far as Severus Snape is concerned, he is merely a premier potion master who betrayed the Death Eaters by switching sides to save his closest friend from his dark master. Severus PRINCE, however, is a master of the mind, even his own, to the point where he created a whole other persona to guide his actions in day to day tasks, just so that he can subtly guide his behavior without taking direct control unless necessary, so that he could serve as a triple-agent during the war under our orders. The man people think as Snape is merely a sliver of what Prince is truly capable of. Were it not for the deal he forced to make with Dumbledore, he would have been head of the department over me."

Silence permeated the room as everyone processed the fact that Severus was most likely more skilled then DUMBLEDORE and VOLDEMORT of all people in a magical art form.

Sirius next words summed up everyone's reactions rather nicely.

"I am going to need a stronger drink to process this."

* * *

 _November 28, 2011 – Morning_

"Any plans for Christmas, Harry?" Neville asked as he looked up from his breakfast, noting the smiling face of his closest – dare he say, best – friend.

Harry looked up from his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , having finished reading about the death of the Lestrange Twins. "No, I got everything done already. Just going to sit back and let the chips fall as they would while I watch as I enjoy the Christmas Break."

* * *

 **Well, here it is. Again, sorry of the pacing is off. I will be going over my past chapters (and this one) again in due time to iron out the small details about where the story will go from now.**

 **Hope you lot are patient enough to wait for the next chapter, whenever it will be again.**

 **If anyone is intrested in helping me out or taking the primary writing poistion for this sotry, please PM me so we can work something out.**


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